


Dancing in Festival Moments

by Inganno



Category: Bugsnax (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, F/F, F/M, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:13:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 48,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28966653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inganno/pseuds/Inganno
Summary: Seven days of music and dancing.  Her voice was heavenly and hypnotic.  His fur was soft and safe.  With months gone by since escaping the island, Wambus and Triffany meet up with Gramble and Wiggle to enjoy a music festival, and watch some performances with their friends.  But feelings and personal issues come about as they make an attempt to navigate each day, one moment at a time.Let the festivities begin.(Story updates on Sundays)
Relationships: Gramble Gigglefunny/Wambus Troubleham, Gramble Gigglefunny/Wiggle Wigglebottom, Triffany Lottablog/Wambus Troubleham, Triffany Lottablog/Wiggle Wigglebottom
Comments: 15
Kudos: 77





	1. And Four to Go

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this to get back into the swing of writing after a year dry spell. Very self-indulgent, and more of just wanting to experiment writing pre-established couples and play around with writing smaller moment scenes, though chapters have ended up much longer than I anticipated. Critiques and reviews are always appreciated.
> 
> Story Updates on Sundays
> 
> Thank you and happy reading.

* * *

**The Invitation - One for the Money**

2:25pm

Triffany and Wambus were the last ones to receive the invitation. A simple chat with Wiggle over the phone assured them backstage passes, all expenses paid accommodations, and the “best entertainment in the industry.” Wambus wasn’t completely sold on the idea, but one look at his haggard wife told him that a vacation – any vacation, short of a trip to a parasite ridden island – was in order.

An envelope arrived for them a few days later from Snide Prairie (a city some 200 or so kilometers west that had a cost of living that drained all the color from Wambus’ fur) which included the promised backstage passes, a map to get to the hotel they’d be staying at, as well as an autographed poster. That girl did love to autograph anything and everything that had her name somewhere on it, even if it was in small print, lost in a sea of names and artists neither Wambus nor Triffany had heard of.

“There she is,” Triffany pointed to the name while she nursed a much needed afternoon caffeine boost. “In-between _DJ BigThing_ and _Maryleu Rickenbutter and the Razmataz_.”

“Who?” Wambus muttered, looking over the names while his wife leaned comfortably against him. He knew absolutely none of the artists listed.

Outside of Wiggle Wigglebottom, the garishly colorful and neon soaked poster promised over fifty artists as well as guest speakers and fan favorites at the event, lasting seven days and seven nights, advertising itself as the biggest electronic music festival in the area. While that didn’t sound all that impressive (“Area? Not country?”), the festival was to be held at New Worble City, another 100 or so kilometers north from Snide Praire, and even more extravagant and pricey.

“All expenses paid, remember?” Triffany had to remind him.

It didn’t stop Wambus from grumbling his displeasure for what he assumed was going to be a festival of rich and famous – not salt of the earth types like he and his wife. His life had never been rich in funds (or healthy soil for that matter), but what the farmer lacked in financial security, he made up for in love and a life of quiet stability. True, sauce wasn’t brand new, and corporations already did it better, but there was a market for organic sauce, which allowed the two to afford the cozy little home in Ahmygrump. Though… the place could use a little (a lot of) renovating.

“It’d be nice to be pampered a bit,” Triffany said, standing up and heading to the kitchen. “I haven’t been getting any responses lately, and it’s not like the hot sauce needs a lot of TLC to grow.”

Plant it and it’ll grow. Hot sauce thrived on drier conditions, and the summer heat wave was in full force. Wambus expected a good hot sauce harvest, though at the expense of losing everything except possibly cheese sauce, but that one always was a wild card.

He watched Triffany disappear into the kitchen through a set of swinging bar doors whose hinges whined angrily. The doors were left over from the previous owner, and one of the things that attracted them to the house. It was a nice size for a small family. Though, when Wambus looked around, all he could see were piling bills in the forms of water damaged ceiling, a few loose floorboards, as well as a few other things that stuck out like a sore paw.

It wasn’t like the place was in that condition when they bought it. Negligence from work, farming, travel, etc. had taken its toll on the foundation: a foundation they had expected to take better care of when they were younger and when the plan to be fruitful and multiply mattered more than anything. Now…

Wambus sighed and rubbed his head, feeling a headache coming on.

“I know that look,” Triffany exclaimed as she returned with a decaffeinated blend. “Try not to think so hard about it. We’ll get the place fixed up.” She dropped next to him and playfully slapped him on his thigh, before taking the poster back and looking over it. “Getting back on topic though: what do you think?”

The festival.

All expenses paid.

Backstage passes.

Fifty plus artists.

Big city.

Electronic music.

Wambus wasn’t sure. The expenses part sounded nice, and it was an excuse to see Wiggle. It also meant seeing Gramble, which he had buried the hatchet with, but was still on awkward terms with. Personally, he wouldn’t have minded just staying home and continue to tend to the sauce. But again, he looked at his exhausted wife, trying hard to find long term work after Snaxburg, at wits end making phone calls and sending letters to curators and colleges in hopes of finding something.

A vacation was still a vacation.

A vacation that wasn’t that hideous island was an even better vacation.

Plus, there was a chance everybody else would be there. It would be nice to see the gang. They planned to all meet up for Filbo’s election results, but that was still a few months off. Maybe seeing some friendly faces would help.

“Alright,” Wambus finally answered. “I’ll give Wiggle a call; tell her we’re onboard.” He was given a quick peck on the cheek, causing a smile to creep onto his face.

“That’s good,” Triffany told him, “because I would have gone without you, otherwise.”

They both chuckled, before comfortably moving closer to one another. Triffany snuggled up under his arm, making sure not to spill scalding coffee onto her husband’s lap. He sighed happily and laid his head over hers. They both returned to the poster, pointing out photos and names of people they had never heard of and pondered what New Worble City must have been like.

Big city meant big things. Maybe big fun. Maybe big trouble.

But that was the thing about Wambus Troubleham and Triffany Lottablog – when you had been married for as long as they had, trouble was rarely ever an issue.

* * *

**The Plan - Two for the Show**

5:01pm

Compared to Gramble’s old studio apartment, Wiggle’s mansion felt like a grand castle. Of course, he called it a mansion, but really it was just a quaint little two story, three bedroom, with two and a half bathrooms, a full sized kitchen, entertainment den, living room complete with conversation pit, an office, walk-in closets, and a spacious open backyard that stretched one and one third’s whole acres.

You know: quaint.

Everything was so big and open: a little like Snaxburg, except without the people and his little ones. He had trouble debating if that was a good thing or not. On one hand, he didn’t have to live out of his studio anymore, making minimum wage taking care of other people’s pets who were too spoiled to care about their own little ones. On the other hand, such a large place made him feel alone when Wiggle was away promoting and touring.

She had offered to take him along when her summer tour had begun, but the glitz and glam didn’t agree with him after the first three cities, and he had trouble opening up around Wiggle’s stage crew. After he ended up sleepwalking away from the hotel in Tureburg, they both agreed it was probably for the best to head home and keep him somewhere he could be comfortable. He had learned to control his sleep walking habit at the house, but only because he made sure to tie his foot to the end post of the bed just in case.

“Gramble…” he said out loud, reading the start to the letter he received in the mail, “I know things have been hectic the past couple of weeks, and you’ve been a real trooper putting up with the tour. I really miss you, darling, and my loneliness is like an echo ready to burst out into a song.”

Cheesy, but he liked when she waxed poetic. It was far and away more entertaining and from the heart than Shelda. That reminded him, he still needed to pick up her book.

“And I’ll be home soon, but…”

He groaned. This wouldn’t have been the first time that her tour had been extended to an additional city. He braced himself to see how far away she’d be this time.

“…I’ve been invited to a music festival in New Worbel City as a headliner! Well, ninth billing on the third row, but still a headliner. They offered enough to pay us through the next year and afford those additions you wanted for the backyard.”

Gramble wanted an animal pen. He didn’t know what kinds of animals would live there, but a pen, nonetheless. He did well enough in Snaxburg caring for the bugsnax, as well as pet sit back in his old home, so he’d be sure to take care of other animals too, right?

“And they even gave me a bunch of backstage passes too! So, I got to thinking; it’s been a few months since we saw the gang. And I know we all promised we’d meet up when it got close to Filbo’s election this autumn, but this felt like a wonderous opportunity to get us together again. So, I went ahead and sent a bunch of packages to everyone and invited them to the festival! The organizers even said they’d pay for everything!”

This was a surprise. Gramble wasn’t expecting anything like this.

“I need you to check for any replies that come in the mail, Gramble, love. Hopefully, they get back to us soon since the organizers need to know how many rooms they need to book.”

Letters from friends? Of course, he wouldn’t mind waiting for the mail. The citizens of Snaxburg were the closest thing he had to what he assumed a real family felt like. At least a family that cared about him.

“Also, I know it’s short notice, but I’d really like for you to be there too. I know you don’t like touring with me, but this is the last one, I swear! And, really Gramble, I miss you. I want you nearby again. I hope you miss me too.”

Did she have to ask?

“Anyways, I’ve gone on long enough. I’ll be back home to pick you up before we head off to New Worbel City. Pack your bags, Gramble! You know what I like to see you in!”

The last sentence was followed by a playfully drawn heart, causing Gramble to blush lightly.

“With love, you’re wonderful, amazing, and loving love of your love – Wiggle.”

Gramble took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, holding the written note close to his chest.

Enclosed in the rest of the letter was a backstage pass on a lanyard, complete with his name typed on it. He put it over his neck and looked at it draped across his chest. It was miles and away better than the tour ones, which were pinned on with clips or bobby pins. These ones had a bit of… life to them. Definitely more budget, that was for sure. Far more than what Wiggle’s performances ended up being – usually nightclubs, discos, and outdoor venues.

He wondered what the festival would be like. Would it be outdoors? He’d probably like that a bit more. If he was being honest, Gramble would like anything if it meant he and Wiggle could have some time together. He missed her so much.

He missed all of his friends.

It was true he didn’t like the touring and entourage scene, but he enjoyed anytime he spent with Wiggle, and suffering through this one meant being with his family from Snaxburg. That would be worth it, right?

Everyone would be there.

“Even Wambus,” he muttered.

Things were awkward between them, but at least they weren’t hostile anymore. Still, a small price to pay for enjoying a good time with everyone. He was finding himself getting excited about the whole thing. So much so that he had already rushed inside to get a suitcase ready, even though the festival was still some time away.

He rushed through the empty house to the room he and Wiggle shared, opening up the walk-in closet, and pulling out a suitcase.

Zipped open, he began to pack.

“Wait… what was that about liking what she saw me in?”

* * *

**The Arrival – Three to Make Ready**

3:33pm

Triffany dropped her luggage on the floor and took a look at the grand hotel suite they had entered. It was immaculate, to say the least. Spacious, to put it frankly. And oh, so bright. The far window stretched from one side of the room all the way to the end, revealing a breathtaking view of New Worbel City that seemed to go on forever.

“Look at that!” she exclaimed at the view, before turning her attention to some comfortable looking décor. “Look at this!”

Even Wambus was taken aback. He was expecting a medium sized room with a bed and a TV, maybe a fridge too, and a bathroom connected: the standard hotel room. He wasn’t expecting a whole living area with a three-piece couch, and a giant big screen TV parked in front of it. Nor was he expecting the room to branch off into a fully functioning kitchen with electric stove, microwave, and coffee maker.

“Where’s uh… where’s the bedroom?” he asked Wiggle, who was hanging out by the entrance with Gramble.

She leaned against the doorframe with a big smile on her face, seeing the shocked look the accommodations had given everyone. She pointed toward a door to their left, where Triffany and Wambus rushed over. She wondered what their expressions must have been when they noticed the comfy king size and adjustable mood lighting. Perfect for a married couple.

“This place looks mighty expensive.”

Gramble lingered close to Wiggle, surprised by the extravagancy that a hotel could afford.

Filbo and his buddy shuffled around the living room, just as surprised as Gramble and the married couple.

“Do Buddy and I just sleep on the couch?” Filbo asked, holding tightly to his backpack straps, while the former journalist, that everyone had started calling “Buddy”, silently pondered the same.

Wiggle chuckled.

“Are you kidding? Who do you think I am? Wiggle Wigglebottom has all the connections. I got us three rooms, so everyone has a place to relax and unwiiiiind.” She trailed with her usual rhythm, stretching it out longer than it had any right to be. “I take care of my friends.”

She said that, knowing that if it weren’t for the fact that only the six of them were there, then everyone would have ended up having to share rooms. Call it good or bad luck, it worked out for the immediate group.

Beffica had originally agreed to come but ended up having to call it off at the last second due to a job interview with a teen magazine. Cromdo desperately wanted to come, but the karaoke bar he opened was more popular than he expected and didn’t have the staff yet to take care of the place. Chandlo and Snorpy were the first to send their response, though the way Snorpy sent it (as not to alert the Grumpinati) made it come at the last second, disappointing Gramble to find out that they couldn’t make it for “reasons”.

Flootfy, on the other hand, taught at a college in New Worbel City and had agreed to come and watch Wiggle perform “a song” and nothing more. Nobody expected much from them, so even showing a passing interest was a positive step forward in their book. Still, they weren’t going to arrive until Wiggle’s set, which wasn’t for a few days.

“A whole week of music, lights, and daaaaaaancing!” she happily sung, putting another pair of sunglasses into the bedroom drawer.

Everyone had gone off to their own suites to unpack and admire the accommodations that Wiggle had secured, giving her the perfect opportunity to unpack (hopefully for the last time this tour) and kick her feet up with Gramble.

He had taken the bottom drawers for his hats and sweaters, keeping them neatly folded and together: best not to make things out of place. His anxious nature did his best to keep things in order.

“There! All set!” he said, closing the drawer.

“And you even brought everything I like you in,” Wiggle flirted, playfully bopping him with her hip.

He chuckled but still didn’t understand what she meant. He just grabbed whatever and assumed the best. The sight of Wiggle was far more exciting then picking out what he needed to wear.

“What now?” Gramble asked.

Wiggle smiled and slipped off her star-shaped sunglasses, placing them on the dresser.

“Well… I thought you and I could do something we haven’t done in a long time. You know what I mean.” She knelt down to his level and gave him a little wink.

Gramble blushed, feeling all sorts of warmth come over his cheeks. “Oh, I think I know what you mean.”

There was a sort of dance between them before they both slowly crept over to the bed, slipped under the covers. Wiggle helped Gramble out of his hat and sweater vest, unceremoniously chucking them over the side of the bed. She then tackled him, nearly rolling him into a ball, brought him close and…

They fell fast asleep for a brief nap.

* * *

**Before the First Day**

8:11am

“Well, it’s not that I don’t like that sort of stuff. It’s just never interested me.” Gramble embarrassingly admitted.

The morning had come swiftly, so the early birds decided to spend it together. Buddy listened curiously, nursing an orange juice over breakfast. They nodded along as Gramble continued, enamored with the topic.

“Wiggle understands though. And it’s not that we haven’t done that before. But it’s just… I don’t know.”

It was a tender subject. Not to say that it was a taboo one, but Gramble wasn’t a big fan of talking about it. He only entertained an answer because Buddy was naturally inquisitive – more nosey than anything, especially when Filbo wasn’t nearby to act as their filter.

“But Wiggle understands. She gets I’m not interested in that kind of stuff, and it’s not like there isn’t another way she and I show our affection for one another. Though, I do wonder what she thinks about it.”

“I don’t think that’s something to worry about.”

Was it mentioned that Triffany was there too? And that it was her and Wambus’ suite they were conversing in?

“You and Wiggle just do whatever makes you happy. Right, Buddy?”

She kicked them under the table. They winced and nodded, seeing the hidden stink-eye Triffany was giving them behind that cheerful expression. Gramble was already a nervous wreck of a grumpus. Buddy didn’t need to rile him up… again.

Wambus appeared a moment later out of the bedroom, no vest or hat yet for the day – just one big blue grumpus. “Mornin’.”

“Mornin’, hon!”

The couple exchanged a quick morning peck.

“What are we talking about?” Wambus groaned as he stretched out.

“Wiggle and Gramble’s bedroom life,” Triffany answered as a matter of fact.

It caused Gramble to blush and pull his hat down around his eyes. Buddy kicked Triffany from under the table.

The big blue brute let out a little groan as he finished stretching out, before saying, “Should have gone with my first instinct and not ask. Coffee?”

Triffany pointed to the coffee maker in the kitchen.

The breakfast continued, changing the subject to chatting about what everyone had been up to and how things had been going on each other’s ends. Of course, nobody got into the finer details of their lives, and decided to keep things on the surface level.

The adequate sauce farm.

The search for a new research opportunity.

Gramble’s isolation.

Buddy’s unemployment and sudden blacklisting.

Keep it simple. Keep in on the level. Nobody needed to know anything other than the basics. Maybe even throw in a few self-deprecating laughs and chuckles here and there. Nobody would be any the wiser. Those nervous glances to one another followed by quick sips of their mugs. Why should anyone feel embarrassed about their current situations. It’s just life. Life is life.

“What are we talking about?” Filbo asked as he was let in by Wambus.

“Nothing!” they all crowed, causing Filbo to jump back in surprise.

* * *

12:24pm

When everyone was wide awake and had their caffeine (Wiggle was the last one up, stretching well into the start of the day), they looked to the lady of the hour for the plan.

“The festival is made up of seven days of glitz and glam!” she explained. “Every day has a different theme, and who goes on stage depends on the theme. Yours truly is day five: the kings and queeeeeens of the discoooooo!”

She paused, half expecting an applause, but only got confused looks, and one excited and bouncy Gramble. She cleared her throat and continued.

“Today is just the setup. The festival staff provided a team to help get everything taken care of, so we don’t need to plan anything except our playlists and routines. I’ll be dealing with rehearsals the closer it gets to the day.”

Gramble had wondered where the usual touring staff had gone. Apparently, they had been sent home. Wiggle was not made aware that this was a relief to them.

“We do Q&A in the mornings, as well as meet and greets. Then in the evenings, the sets start, and go on aaaaaall the way into night. Then, they shut it all done to get ready for the next theme. Neat, huh?”

None of them would call it neat. Outside of Gramble, who mostly knitted and liked to take care of animals, the group knew that micromanaging events was anything but neat. Filbo had to shake himself out of a bad memory involving a town hall meeting and how poorly planned he and Buddy approached everything.

“But outside of that, the city is all yours! Go explore! Indulge yourself! As long as your indulgence stays under a certain amount of funds per day. But induuuulge yourself!”

There it was. They knew the hotels and food would be paid for, but the tourism? That was coming out of Wiggle’s own pocket. She didn’t mind. Out of the whole group, she was the most well off. Licensing rights to “Do The Wiggle” never seemed to depreciate in value.

* * *

**The Rest of the Day**

Filbo and Buddy headed out to the city for the day to see the sights. They both felt that the surprise of the festival was going to be the best part and didn’t want to be spoiled from decorations or event planning. Besides, they had seen plenty of that kind of stuff on the campaign trail.

Triffany and Wambus enjoyed the day in hotel, walking around the lobby, taking a look at the swimming pool, and even peaking inside to see Wiggle and Gramble help with setting up things. After working outside for so long, spending the day inside felt like a vacation in and of itself.

Gramble and Wiggle didn’t need to help. The staff told them that up front. But when a parade of birds and snakes appeared for one of the performers, Gramble stepped in to offer some much-needed assistance, especially when the handler had some difficulty with one (non-deadly) venomous creature. After that, the team was happy to have Wiggle and Gramble on board.

When all was said and done, the prelude ended well. Filbo and Buddy returned with souvenirs to show off, while Triffany and Wambus spent the day lounging around. Gramble eventually left once the animal issue had been taken care of, even getting a “thank you” from the performer herself: dressed all in black, from head to toe. Surprisingly bubbly girl, considering.

This left Wiggle, introducing herself to all the performers, who were invited to get to know each other before the first day began. There was some general comradery among most of the artists, but after helping with the setup, Wiggle excused herself early, more content to curl up with Gramble for a peaceful night sleep before having to start rehearsals, Q&As, and everything else she had agreed to do.

There was some argument behind her about somebody leaving their turn table out, and ruining someone’s dress or some such nonsense, but she didn’t care. She was off to end the day right, ignorant of the prying eyes watching her leave.

* * *


	2. When I Hold'cha Baby

**Day One**

9:12am

The rest of the week wouldn’t yield as peaceful of mornings.

Triffany looked down from the living room, watching a cavalcade of patrons descend upon the hotel lobby. She felt bad for the staff, hoping they were getting some sort of extra compensation, but having worked as a hotel cook in college, she wasn’t optimistic.

“Maybe they’re used to it,” Gramble said as he watched alongside her. “I mean, this hotel is connected to a big stadium.”

That it was. A festival of such proportions needed a venue of equal measure, and The Daring Darts Sports Stadium (conveniently connected to one of the most expensive hotels in the city) seemed like the perfect choice.

“They did a pretty good job changing the field to a concert stage,” he continued, remembering how quick and efficiently the festival staff had worked from the previous day.

Triffany sighed and finished off the last drop of her mug, hearing the rustling of her husband in the other room. He emerged a moment later.

“Coffee?” he yawned.

She happily pointed to the coffee maker.

* * *

10:40am

Wiggle let out a bellowing yawn, not happy about getting up so early (or at least early according to her). She popped the joints in her paws as she began to address her friends.

“Now, your girl Wiggle is going to be out and about doing festival things, but I’ll try to break away for dinner. How does that sound?”

None of them expected to see her all that much over the next few days.

Along with the ticket holders came press, ready to answer questions and try to put the performers on as awkward of a spot as they could muster. Wiggle had thought ahead though and forced Buddy to give her a faux interview, so that her lips wouldn’t be as loose around the cameras and recorders.

She failed the practice spectacularly.

Filbo blushed as Buddy showed him some of the notes they had scribbled down. Needless to say, it didn’t paint a pretty picture of Wiggle. Luckily, the two didn’t get much time to look over the notepad before Wiggle snatched it away from Buddy, tore out the two pages of scandal, crumpled them up, and ate them.

“Now,” she continued after swallowing her brunch, “you all will need these.” She passed the five of them a brochure. “That tells you when every event is, and I even went ahead and marked all the ones I’ll be in,” which was then followed with a wink.

They unfolded the brochure and, sure enough, each event she was to be a part of was marked with a kiss - a kiss with very clumpy and sticky lipstick. If there was one thing Gramble did miss about touring with her, it was being able to help with makeup, and choose brands that fit her fur tone, as well as ones that weren’t tested on animals.

According to the brochure, Wiggle was to have a Q&A session first thing, in the green room, with the “Electronic Legends of the Past”, something she argued should have been changed, but according to the organizers…

“Once a one hit wonder, always a one hit wonder,” she groaned, suddenly feeling the urge to spit at the ground. “The nerve of those people too. ‘Ode to Gramble” goes gold record, and they still think of me as some long-forgotten diva. But this girl will show them. Wiggle Wigglebottom is coming back, and she is coming for the top!”

* * *

11:22am

“Ms. Wigglebottom, I was curious about your thought process when coming up with ‘Do the Wiggle.’”

Gramble closed his eyes and shook his head. Always the same questions about the same history about the same song. The other four had a similar reaction, having to hear about it back on Snaxtooth Island. Of course, after answering that question, the next would be…

“Recently, you disappeared for a few months. I know you told everyone that you were assisting researcher Elizabert Megafig, but her whereabouts are still unknown. You and Shellsy Woolbag are the only two links to her and her partner’s whereabouts. Why are you so secretive about it?”

Buddy gritted their teeth and clutched their notepad.

When all was said and done on Snaxtooth, the only person who had to face the press was Wiggle, especially having disappeared and suddenly reappearing. Shelda’s role only became apparent after her book came out, only mentioning Wiggle in passing. She was never meant to be part of the book, but when people started asking questions, she made sure to add Wiggle in to take some of the heat off the popstar.

None of the other inhabitants were “important” enough to consider. At most Triffany and Buddy were the only ones worth questioning, but Triffany and Wambus were a childless couple known to disappear on research and farming from time to time, and Buddy’s story never got published for some reason. Probably because they got fired. Everyone else wasn’t “famous” enough, and Lizbert never gave out the list of guests to the island. Only Clumby from Buddy’s old job at GNN knew, and she gave the appearance of not believing it for a second.

Buddy’s grip on their notepad tightened and their breath began to pick up pace: What they saw on that island. What they had seen become of Lizbert and Eggabell. What they saw in their dreams too many times since then.

They suddenly felt Filbo’s gentle but shaky hand rubbing their arm. He had felt the same things. The others had only seen Lizbert and Eggabell for a second before escaping. Buddy and Filbo saw the whole truth and the hell behind it all.

Wiggle paused after the question, a tired frown forming over her face. That question always ended up getting asked every interview, every Q&A, every fan meet. She would answer the same way she always did.

“As I have said over and over again, I left before their disappearance. Elizabert was a good woman, but,” she followed with a strained sigh, “she was… not well. I’m sure Eggabell took care of her, but Elizabert Megafig had… severe issues.”

And every time, it was painful to say: to slander such a kind and caring leader. A leader who only knew about as much as they all did going to that island. But it was the only way to try and close the book on her story. Lizbert and Eggabell were still on the island; twisted, but happy together. Wiggle and the rest were intent on taking that truth to their graves.

Filbo suddenly felt sick. He needed to excuse himself. Buddy followed him, leaving as they heard the fan try to push back.

“But Ms. Wigglebottom…”

“Next question please,” the moderator of the event announced, trying to keep the line moving.

The fan was led back to their seat as the next one approached the microphone.

Wambus’ hand found Triffany’s. They squeezed tightly, hoping that their strength could push the last few moments of their time on that island out of their heads.

Gramble simply looked out into the distance, as if trying to see something that wasn’t there. His head escaped him for a few minutes until a fan brought him back to reality.

“This one is for Wiggle Wigglebottom.”

“Hello there, darling,” she greeted the young woman at the microphone. “What would you like to ask?”

The nervous fan cleared her throat, bringing her mouth uncomfortably close to the microphone.

“How do you feel about DJ BigThing using samples from ‘Ode to Gramble’ in his newest single?”

Wiggle hesitated for a moment. Gramble did the same. Neither of them had heard about this. He looked over at Wambus and Triffany, who shrugged.

“I’m… I’m afraid I haven’t heard it yet, darling,” Wiggle answered, a little shaken. She was sure that someone needed to ask her permission or something, right? “I didn’t even know he made one. I never spoke with him about using my song…”

“Well, he didn’t use the song, just a sample from it.”

“A sample then, but I think I would hope he would reach out to me about it. My voice and my songs are very special to me. I’d be very worried about someone changing things around.”

“It’s not really a remix or anything, Ms. Wigglebottom. It’s his song, but your voice is in it.”

The girl’s tone sounded like she was talking down to a child. Wiggle knew she didn’t mean anything cruel by it. For all the things Wiggle knew about music, modern electronica was still a subject she was learning about. Things were different from the era of “Do the Wiggle.” Even “Ode to Gramble” used a lot of older synth samples and rhythms. Not only that, but she had never heard any of DJ BigThing’s songs or backbeats.

“I suppose I’ll have to take a listen to it then. Did it open you up to my music?”

“Not really, no. I looked you up and thought you and DJ BigThing collaborated on it, but I guess I was wrong. But you should really listen to it! I’ll bet you’ll be proud your voice got someone from my generation to platinum!”

Again, she didn’t mean to sound cruel, but her words caused a wave of varying reactions from the various artists on the stage, with all of them looking to Wiggle for her reply. Gramble, wide-eyed and anxious, held his fists close to his chest as if watching a horror movie and expecting the scare at any moment. Triffany clasped her paw to her mouth while her husband whistled audibly at the absolute slap Wiggle just received from the girl.

“I’m… I’m glad I could be of help to him,” Wiggle said with an obviously fake smile. At least it fooled the girl.

“Next question,” the moderator uncomfortably announced.

Good thing too. If that girl had said anything more, Wiggle would have jumped off the stage and introduced her to the back of her paw.

* * *

12:04pm

“THE NERVE” Wiggle growled.

“Easy does it, Wiggle,” Gramble did his best to calm her. He hadn’t seen her this annoyed in quite some time.

“Platinum?” she continued. “Platinum? My album barely scratches gold, and some disk jockey goes and takes my song – a song I dedicated to this lovely grump of a man here – takes my song and uses it without my permission?”

“Calm down now, Wiggle.”

“How dare he! When is he performing?”

Wambus looked at the brochure schedule for day one, checking on all the artists for that day.

The theme of the first day ended up being the “Modern Era”, which meant a lot of vaporwave, hardcore, and synthwave. DJ BigThing was listed on a set for hardcore.

Triffany looked confused as she read the brochure.

“Hardcore? What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know,” Wambus replied, “but I probably won’t get it. I don’t get any of this generation’s music. It all sounds the same to me.”

Wiggle didn’t care about Wambus’ lack of musical taste. She was out for blood.

The DJ himself seemed like a decently popular artist. Popular enough to be featured in two sets during the festival. Once on the first day with a set of other modern electronic artists, and then one more on the last day for a full two hour set all his own. He was the most high-profile artist the organizers had secured for the event. In terms of chart toppers, he absolutely towered over Wiggle.

“What time does he go on?” she asked.

“Late. Midnight late.”

“It’s decided then!” Wiggle exclaimed as she looked at all of her friends around the room. “Everyone, we’re going to a raaaaaaave tonight!”

* * *

1:49pm

Wiggle wasn’t able to stay around long after that. Her afternoon was going to be set chatting with all the artists on her set and making sure nobody’s times overlapped with each other. She had agreed to three songs, with two of them being obvious choices. The third one not so much.

With Wiggle out for the rest of the afternoon, Gramble ended up spending some time with Filbo and Buddy, who had ended up returning to their suite to cool down. He was happy to chat and listen when they wanted to be heard.

Wambus and Triffany took some time to look around the stadium, trying to understand the theme of the day.

The stadium – with its tables and panhandlers already out in full force – seemed like a mishmash of different colors, aesthetics, and architecture. “Modern era” seemed to imply some sort of, well, modernity: something present day or current.

“Just seems like a whole lot of nothing,” Wambus said.

There really wasn’t that much out of the ordinary. Even with the lights dimmed, and the neon lights illuminating the stadium, the typical decorations someone would see in a standard dance club were all that showed off the “modern” charm.

“Maybe that’s the point,” Triffany argued. “Maybe this is what modern is in music. It’s our present time, so I guess we would see it as boring, because it certainly feels like it.”

She did her best to analyze it, but unless Floofty was there, all she was doing was describing what she saw to her husband. He loved listening to her though, so it benefited the two of them.

After about two laps around the stadium, they agreed that they had seen everything and moved on.

* * *

4:24pm

“It says here that the stadium switches over to the performance venue after 7:00pm,” Filbo read from the brochure. “The first set starts at 8:00pm.”

The group minus Wiggle had all reconvened in Filbo and Buddy’s suite. Now collected, the two were excited to go and watch the sets. After they fill their bellies, of course.

“There’s a list of food venues here too,” he continued, pointing to different pop-ups underneath the stadium. “Is there anything anyone is in the mood for?”

* * *

5:18pm

Triffany had to ask around to find Wiggle, flashing her backstage badge where she had to. When the group was ready to head out for some grub, she volunteered to hunt down the popstar so that they could all enjoy a meal together after their first day. After a little deduction and getting a little lost backstage, she found out that Wiggle was practicing for her set in one of the storage rooms in the back.

“Number 14.”

Triffany knocked on the numbered door and waited a moment before entering.

She was surprised by how soundproof the room turned out to be. As she stepped inside, the sound of a classical guitar echoed through the room.

Triffany saw the back of Wiggle’s head at first, before realizing she was staring at her reflection. The storage room had been temporarily converted into a practice area, complete with a mirror that encompassed nearly the entire back wall. Cold, smooth, hard concrete flooring led onto soft padding that was fastened in place with fabric fasteners. Some folding chairs leaned against one side of the wall, while storage equipment for amplifiers and speakers sat quietly in the front corner of the room.

Wiggle sat in the middle of the room in one of the chairs, propped up slightly by soft padding, surrounded by numerous guitars. Her banjo leaned against the chair, as a bass and an electric guitar (it looked a lot like the one Wambus owned) laid flat on the ground, while Wiggle herself nursed the classical, lost in song.

Triffany stood there and waited for her to finish before saying anything.

There was a pause in the music as Wiggle began to tap her paw on the wood of the guitar, before heaving a heavy sigh. When she finally looked up, she nearly jumped out of her seat.

“Geez, girl! You nearly startled the talent out of me!”

Triffany chuckled.

“Sorry, about that. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Nah. It’s not like you were interrupting anything important.”

Her voice was dower and unsure. She tapped on the guitar again, muttering something about notes and sounds, getting lost in her own head. For a moment, she had completely forgotten she was alone.

“What can I do for you, Triff?” she asked, trying to focus.

Triff? She couldn’t remember the last time anyone called her that (maybe college). She was so used to Wambus’ affectionate “Triffy” that any other nickname felt foreign. That wasn’t to say she didn’t like it.

“We were wondering if you were ready to join us for dinner,” Triffany explained.

For some reason, the question felt insensitive, like her being there was an inconvenience to Wiggle somehow. She thought about her own passion for archaeology. How many times had she gotten upset at Wambus for interrupting her research late into the night?

Wiggle mulled over her offer.

“I’m sorry, darling, but I’m so close to figuring this song out,” she explained as she continued to tap on the guitar. “I need to get this sound just right before I can do anything else.”

It was the answer that Triffany expected after walking in and observing her surroundings. It should have been enough for Triffany to thank her and move on with the day, but something else caught her attention.

That tapping.

At first, Triffany just attributed it to an unconscious reaction. But the more she listened, the more she realized there was a beat to it. The same sequence of tapping over and over. It created a melody of percussion that pushed her to ask further.

“What are you working on?”

The tapping ceased.

Triffany suddenly felt that maybe she shouldn’t have opened her mouth. She was just about to apologize and leave, before Wiggle got the first word in.

“A new song for my set,” she answered simply. “I need a third song, and I don’t want to do one of the other Wiggle songs. I already got ‘Do the Wiggle’ and ‘Ode to Gramble’, but I need another. I’ve been working on this one for a while, so I was thinking about using it.”

The tapping resumed.

Triffany wasn’t sure how to follow that up. Wiggle was incredibly protective of her music, or maybe more the idea of her music. The group had seen how hard she tried to come up with new material, so it wasn’t a surprise to see her act so lost in the process.

“What’s it called?”

The question came out of nowhere. Triffany wasn’t even aware she had said anything until the question was out in the open. No going back now.

“I don’t know,” Wiggle sighed. “Untitled sad song, I guess? Want to hear it?”

“I’d love to!”

Again, before she had realized it, she had cemented herself into Wiggle’s music making process, finding a comfortable spot on the soft mat to sit down and listen. It was only one song. The boys and Buddy could wait for a bit longer.

There was a moment of hesitation from Wiggle before she began. In earnest, this was the first time she had decided to show the song off to anyone in any form. But a critiquing audience might do her good, she thought. So, she took in a deep breath and let her paws slowly begin to pluck and play at the strings.

Triffany had only heard Wiggle’s songs in her album forms. She had also only known Wiggle to sing these loud and powerful vocals that were perfect for the dance floor, and always knew when to put a smile on someone’s face. But this one was different.

The strings were sad and low, beginning with a slow build as Wiggle began to (what Triffany could describe as) mourn. The lyrics were heartfelt, as they wrapped themselves around Triffany’s heart and squeezed tightly. Not so much so that they hurt, but more like a reminder – like something was missing.

She had plenty of those.

Wiggle’s voice then erupted into a triumphant roar, taking the steps to better herself and be more than she ever could be. She looked up from the guitar into Triffany’s eyes, gazing through star shaped sunglasses, piercing the archaeologist with ease.

Triffany flinched, feeling her heart skip a beat, unsure how to react before her body let loose the softest of whimpers, or was it a sigh? She wasn’t sure. It struck though; the arrow going through her chest, nearly hitting the one already lodged in there by her husband. Maybe it stuck next to it? Her mind and heart were aflutter, and she felt lost in the song.

Why had she never realized how wonderful Wiggle’s voice was? Behind the electronica, and the disco, and the dance – there was Wiggle. There she was, surrounded by guitars of all shapes and sizes, singing out to an audience of one.

Triffany felt warm. She could feel the blush come over her. It wasn’t some sort of forbidden or unknown feeling, but it certainly was interesting feeling it from a song.

Wiggle’s voice eventually settled, and the final notes of the guitar strummed. She let the echo of the room disappear before taking a deep breath and focusing on Triffany’s reaction.

“What did you think?” she asked. “Be honest.”

How does one answer that? If she was honest, then it could turn into an awkward conversation. Or maybe that was the point? Maybe she needed to hear the truth in order to better the song.

_Snap out of it, Triffany. You’re a researcher. Tell her your findings._

She cleared her throat and explained, “My findings were that they made me feel a deep sense of sorrow and joy at the same time, and…”

She stopped. She was sounding an awful lot like Floofty. Triffany wanted to talk like Triffany. So, _talk like Triffany_ , she thought to herself.

“I… really got into it. It really made me feel bad, but in a good way. And then when you belted out and really got my attention, you really made me feel like I was a younger gal. I mean, I know we’re close to same age, but it made me feel like… I wanted to meet you and get to know you better. Does that make sense?”

Wiggle gave her a blank expression. The moment of awkwardness stemmed from there, but not for very long. She smiled, revealing her teeth, before setting the guitar down.

“You really liked it, Triff?”

Her friend nodded, seeing that was probably the best answer.

Wiggle laughed, her smile widening.

“Then I think I have my third song! I knew I was on to something! Thanks, girl!”

Triffany was then caught off guard by a hug. She wasn’t offput so much by the hug itself, but more so receiving affection from someone who just got her hot and bothered (that wasn’t Wambus) with just their music a moment ago. She eventually hugged back, pulling back after a moment. Wiggle laughed at her.

“I really did a number on you, huh?”

Triffany uncomfortably chuckled. “What do you mean?”

Wiggle winked and returned to the chair.

“You know what I mean,” she said playfully. “Don’t go telling Wambus now. He might get jealous. Who’s to say the great Wiggle Wigglebottom won’t come and sweep his wife off her feet?”

Triffany’s laugh that followed felt half forced and half serious. Wiggle noticed but didn’t push the mood further. Who knew she had that sort of effect on people? Maybe this was the new sound she had been looking for.

“Would you mind staying and helping me with it for a bit?” she then asked Triffany. “We can get one of the organizers to grab some food for us. I really want to work on this, and you’re the only one who knows about it now, so what do you say?”

Why not? It could be fun to help a popstar with her song. Plus, it meant spending more time with her friend.

* * *

5:40pm

Wambus hung up the phone on the kitchen counter.

“We’re on our own, you three,” he announced to them all. “Wiggle wants Triffany to help with practice. Triffy told us to meet them at 7:30pm sharp at storage room 14, so we can all head to the set together. Said something about having really good seats or something.”

His stomach grumbled as he stepped away from the counter. The thought of all those food vendors quickly crossed into his mind.

“What sounds good for everyone?”

* * *

6:00pm

“Is there a vegetarian place anywhere?” Gramble asked, trying not to get crushed by the stampede of paying customers. Apparently, they weren’t the only ones wanting to grab a quick bite before heading off to the stadium proper.

Nearly every vendor stall had lines stretching out at least twenty to thirty grumps, save for two or three that charged far more than the average vendor.

“It would be faster if we just ate outside the stadium,” Wambus grumbled to himself.

They eventually found a nice sandwich vendor whose line was tolerable and was even able to make Gramble something vegetarian. Once their number had been called, they grabbed their food and searched in vain for the first empty table as far away from the noise and crowd as they could, until they remembered they had backstage passes.

Filbo let out a sigh of relief as the group found a nice spot on the ground, out of the way of the staff to relax and eat.

“Didn’t think it’d be so busy,” he said, chomping down on a fry.

Buddy gave him a look, as if to say, “Really? A seven-day music festival with some of the biggest artists of the genre, and you didn’t expect it to be busy?” They cared for Filbo deeply and could vouch for his leadership skills, but sometimes he said the silliest things.

“You must be nuts,” Wambus replied, taking the words out of Buddy’s mouth. “I’m surprised we didn’t get trampled out there. Think how the performances tonight are going to be.”

Gramble swallowed some food and watched the busy staff rush back and forth to get ready for “doors open” as they put it.

“I got pretty used to it myself when I was with Wiggle on tour. Still don’t like how loud it can get though.”

Wambus gave him an odd look.

“That’s even crazier,” he said waving a fry in his face. “If you don’t like the noise, why would you get together with Wiggle? That girl’s always loud.”

Filbo and Buddy sensed no lie. It was rare not to hear Wiggle when she was in the room. It was part of her charm, but also an annoyance. They were glad she slept so late. Who knows what she’d be like early in the early mornings.

Gramble grumbled, trying to ignore Wambus.

“Err, sorry,” the blue grumpus added, sensing some hostility. They may have buried the hatchet, but there was still a little awkwardness mixed in there. It was hard to shake the old them from Snaxburg. “I’m sure she’s a swell gal when you two are alone.”

“She is,” Grambled answered. “I think.”

Buddy stopped midchew, exchanging a glance with Filbo. Wambus cocked his head at that last statement.

“You think?”

Gramble sighed and watched two grumps carry a large subwoofer through a set of double doors.

“We haven’t really had a lot of time alone since we got back from the island. Once we got our lives back on track, she invited me to the recording of her new song, and then to the tour with its release. We were fine together, sure, but with the staff and always moving around, and record labels and all of that, we didn’t get as much time for each other as I wanted to. I think she felt that too.”

He took a bite and savored the flavor. The vendor knew how to make a good wrap.

Wambus picked at his sandwich, mourning how overdressed it was.

“So, do you two even know each other? Like, got to really know each other?” he asked.

“Well, yeah!” Gramble announced happily. “She’s told me so much about herself, and her upbringing and her inspirations and everything. She really opened her heart to me! I think having someone to do that to really helped her start writing music she could be proud of again.

And any time we actual got alone, like dates and all that, we’d just talk the night away about all the things we really loved. Her music, my animals… her mostly.”

Gramble felt the skin under his fur flush red. However, it faded just as quickly when terrible memories crept into his mind.

“I hope I’m good enough for her,” he sighed despondently.

There was silence while the group assessed the mood and tried to think of the best way to cheer Gramble up.

“I’m sure you’re doing great, Gramble!” Filbo said with a cheery grin. Buddy nodded in approval. They both looked over to Wambus for additional support.

But he was lost in his own head. He stared down at Gramble, caught in his own past, hearing those words.

 _I hope I’m good enough for her_.

“Don’t sell yourself down the river, Gramble,” he said in an uplifting tone. “After the festival, you two will have all the time in the world to get to know each other. You’ve already taken the first big step. You like a lot of the same things, you both understand the things you don’t like, and you opened yourself up to each other. You’re doing great!”

Filbo and Buddy’s smiles widened. That was mood lifter that they were waiting on. They were happy, returning to their dinner with the atmosphere between them uplifted a bit more.

But only Wambus heard Gramble sigh again, muttering to himself.

“She opened up to me at least. I don’t think she actually knows me.”

His paws curled into fists, suddenly feeling the urge to punch himself. They uncurled slowly as he felt Wambus’ paw on his shoulder, slowly rubbing it in support. It sent a kind of shiver down Gramble’s spine, feeling a wave of electricity that caused his fur to stand on end.

He liked it.

“Give it time,” Wambus whispered to him.

That sounded good enough. Gramble almost put his own paw over Wambus’ but stopped himself short. When it left his shoulder, he couldn’t help but feel a little upset.

* * *

7:35pm

They all eventually met up, following Wiggle to an escalator that led up to a private booth, usually reserved for businesses and politicians during sporting events. Instead, the room was filled with various artists and VIPs, particularly friends and family with backstage passes, as well as the usual group of media and music journalists.

A set of seats in front of a large window had been reserved to the group under Wiggle’s name.

Tables of small plates and liquor lined the wall, with which Gramble had to stop Wiggle from partaking in. At least, not before she listened to DJ BigThing’s song, if it was even featured. She thanked him for keeping her balanced, giving him a peck before grabbing a sparkling water and mingling with the artists.

The rest of them chitchatted for a bit. Eventually, Wambus had to ask Triffany something.

“Do you think they’re okay?” pointing to Gramble and Wiggle.

“I think so,” she answered. “Maybe? I don’t know. Am I okay?”

It was an odd thing to ask.

Wambus didn’t have an answer. They decided to chat about it after the set.

* * *

11:56pm

“Nope, still don’t get it,” Wambus said as the penultimate artist left the set. He hadn’t understood a single song since the set began. He chocked it up to his age.

Filbo and Buddy had been up and dancing with each other, almost wanting to join the rave that had formed down in the stadium below. Wambus stopped them though, knowing full well Eggabell would have advised against it, calling it a hunch.

“Triffy, are you… are you analyzing that mess down there?” he asked his wife, who was busy scribbling away in her sketchpad.

“Ooh, yes! Look down there to the left! The youngsters have formed a mosh pit! Look at them go! It’s so fascinating! You know what dynasty this reminds me of?”

Wambus didn’t let her finish and jokingly took the sketchpad away from her. She chuckled, blushing playfully. Wambus smiled in response and gave it back. Perhaps the both of them needed to get out and be more social if this was their reaction to a music festival.

Gramble danced here and there with Filbo and Buddy but got a bit too anxious when too many people in the booth started watching them curiously. Filbo considered them an audience, but it was enough for Gramble to take a seat next to Wiggle. He could handle a handful of eyes on him before it became too much.

The past hour had Wiggle sitting down, waiting for DJ BigThing to make his appearance. It was rare to see her so perfectly still, focused on the stage below. She didn’t say much about the previous artists, usually going to single word compliments like “good” or “nice” or “surprising”.

Until…

“Ladies and gentlemen!” the host announced over the loudspeaker. “We bring you our final artist of the evening! You’ve waited for him, and here he is! DJ BIGTHING!”

Wiggle stood up. There he was… an ant from the box seats. She looked up at one of the monitors in the corner of the room. He was there, waving to everyone as he walked onto the stage.

A slightly taller grumpus than Gramble. Fuchsia colored fur covered his body with a sports jacket for some team Wiggle didn’t recognize, while he wore his own brand of headphones over his head and a pair of darkened shades that covered his eyes. His right arm was covered in silicon bracelets – the kind that that had all sorts of organizations and charities on them.

He approached the turn table on the stage and wasted no time getting into it.

The first song.

Wiggle didn’t recognize it, but was actually good, she willingly admitted. Much like Wambus, she didn’t quite understand what he was going for, but it was dark, foreboding, powerful, and elicited all sorts of fearful emotions inside her. She gave him credit for accomplishing that.

“Kind of scary,” Gramble said to her about the song. She agreed.

BigThing stopped for a moment to talk to the audience. It wasn’t anything that the other musicians hadn’t already been doing, even bringing someone up on stage to chat. Eventually, the fan was dismissed, and the DJ returned to the table.

The second song.

Again, nothing stood out to Wiggle. Same tone as the last if not more fast paced and much stronger. There were what sounded like male vocals backing it, but nothing more aside from that. With as fast and energetic as it went, Wiggle felt like she should have been off exercising.

“Gets your energy pumping!” Filbo remarked as he continued to bust a move, now part of a group who decided to join him halfway into the first song. “I’ll bet Chandlo listens to this when he’s working out!”

It certainly was exhausting. Buddy was wiped and sat this set of songs out.

Triffany tapped her feet to the rhythm while Wambus still didn’t get it.

“Maybe we won’t hear it,” Gramble said to his on-edge girlfriend.

And then came the third song.

A deep bellowing beat followed by an all too familiar voice. It was only a small snippet of her voice, but it was enough. This was the song. She leaned against the glass, looking down at DJ BigThing, happily performing a song with her voice in it. And not just any song either.

“Ode to Gramble,” she hissed.

If it was a sample from “Do the Wiggle” or any of her older work, she would be annoyed, but not upset. But this was something else. This was a song that she had poured her heart and soul into, creating an uplifting and cheerful tribute to someone who stuck with her through thick and thin, even when she didn’t deserve it, and even when she tried to take advantage of his generosity.

What was originally a song backed up by her banjo and groovy dance tunes, now sounded distorted and broken. It sounded like something crashing down, as if the feelings inside her vocals sounded more hostile and disparaging. It sounded…

…sick.

And then, there was a flash. Only for a moment, and even from that distance, she knew.

DJ BigThing looked right up at her in that booth, and she flinched.

No, wait.

It wasn’t her he was looking at. It was who was standing next to her, gently holding her hand.

She freed herself from his grasp, slammed her fists against the reinforced glass and angrily stormed out.

* * *

12:41am

“How is she?” Filbo asked as Gramble came out of he and Wiggle’s bedroom.

“I calmed her down some. I think a good night’s sleep should do her a world of good.”

Filbo smiled, thankful for that. She had been cursing up a storm when they chased after her, giving the reporters at the event a nice scowl for the morning paper’s entertainment section. That was going to be fun for her to explain. Buddy would have to help her practice with the media… again.

Gramble yawned and stepped back into the open doorway.

“I think a good night sleep will do all of us some good. It’s been a long day. I’m tuckered out.”

It certainly had been an eventful day for all of them, and it had only been the first of many. Wiggle’s set wasn’t until day five, and there was still a whole new theme for them to explore tomorrow.

“What about you?” Triffany asked. “Are you doing alright, Gramble?”

In all the commotion, they had forgotten to consider Gramble in the situation. After all, the song BigThing sampled was about him, and while Filbo and Buddy enjoyed its use, the other two weren’t so sure.

“I’ll be fine. It’s just a song. I’m more worried about Wiggle right now. But that DJ though…” he paused for a moment before shaking his head out of a funk and grinning up at the group. “It’s not important. I gotta go brush my teeth and tie my foot to the bed, just in case. You four have a good night.”

“Sweet dreams!” Filbo said as he waved to Gramble.

They all said their goodnights and headed to their respected suites.

With the day finally done, Wambus and Triffany stripped out of their vests and hats, and threw them on the floor of the bedroom, dropping onto the warm embrace of the bed.

“What a day,” Triffany announced.

“Sure was,” Wambus replied back. He gave her a kiss on the nose and readied to crawl under the sheets. Teeth brushing could come in the morning. That loud music knocked all the energy out of him. He then remembered… “What was that about if you were alright earlier?”

Triffany yawned and crawled under the blankets with him, mentally agreeing that she would brush extra hard in the morning.

“You know, it’s the strangest thing. I was helping Wiggle with practice before we met back up with you all, and I got to hear a little bit of her new song.”

“And?”

She explained her night evening to Wambus, with the song she added her commentary on and Wiggle’s creative thought process. As she thought about it, that blushing feeling returned.

“It’s so good, Wambus. Don’t tell her I told you about a new song though - it’s still a secret. But she sings so much from the heart, and her voice is so amazing, and I think I got really… flustered when I heard it. You know, like heart skipping a beat and all that jazz.”

Wambus paused for a moment before grinning with interest. He propped his head up in his paw and rested his elbow on the pillow.

“Really? Wiggle, of all people?”

Triffany nodded.

“I’m sure it was just a passing fancy,” she replied with an excited smile, “but that song and her voice hit something inside me. Made me feel like what those girls down front stage were like to all those artists.”

“Sounds like a heck of a song. Think I’ll get to hear it?”

“Well, she wants to unveil it at her set. Sounds like a real hoot and a hit! I might have to get Wiggle’s autograph when she releases it! ‘To my number one gal pal!’ Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Wambus laughed and laid his head down.

“And I’ll bet you’d like for her to kiss the cover, huh?” he joked.

She thought about those messy kisses from the brochure earlier.

“Not on your life mister. Oh, but check this out. She said Gramble helped her with her makeup when they were on tour. Isn’t that the darndest thing?”

He shook his head. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

They looked at each other with the smile that lovers so often shared, gently holding each other’s hands as they nestled into the bed. Wambus reached over and hit the lamp on the nightstand, and the two became bathed in dark. The only light coming in was through a crack in the curtains that led out to the balcony.

“Wambus?”

“Yeah, Triffy.”

“Are you okay with me talking about Wiggle like that?”

“Of course, I am. Never been worried about you running off into the sunset with someone else. I don’t get that jealous anyways. You know I love you.”

“I love you too. I just worry you might worry about me.”

He hummed to her, thinking about their relationship.

“We’re an old married couple, Triffany. I’m always going to worry about you. Can’t turn that off. But I also trust you too. It’s not like I haven’t been honest to you about my own crushes on other grumps before. I’d be more worried about Gramble. Who knows what kind of firecracker he’d be if you tried to steal Wiggle away.”

She tried to laugh it off, but knowing Gramble, she wasn’t sure how he’d react. Poor guy had the worst case of the jitters she ever saw. And then there was Wiggle.

Triffany playfully thought about her, Wiggle, and Wambus together for a moment, before suddenly treading down a different scenario in her head. It led her to laugh.

“What?” Wambus asked.

“Oh nothing,” she told him. “Just thinking of something silly.”

* * *


	3. Committing to Commitments, Hiding my Indulgence

* * *

** Day Two **

8:41am

Getting up was difficult that morning. Nobody got to bed until nearly 1am, and the last person to finally pass out was Wiggle, still upset about the previous night. Sadly, the alarm would have to go off, and everyone would need to greet the day at some point.

Having woken up on the floor, far from bed, Gramble undid the rope around his foot and got to work with making some tea. He knocked on Triffany and Wambus’ suite, not surprised that Triffany was already up, though not much longer than him.

“Coffee?” she asked him at the door.

He pointed to he and Wiggle’s suite. After leaving a note to Wambus saying where she was, she joined the short pink fluff with what was becoming a nice morning ritual.

“How’s she doing?” Triffany asked as she poured water into the coffee maker.

Gramble looked around the room. “I kept her from breaking the TV, so I guess that’s something. Not like she didn’t take it out on everything else.”

The living room was a mess. Cushions and pillows had been thrown about, the coffee table in front of the TV had been flipped, one of the complimentary coffee mugs had been chucked across the room and was in pieces on the carpeted floor – the list went on.

“At least it’s nothing that house cleaning can’t handle,” Gramble sighed in relief. Outside of the mug, and a landscape portrait snapped in two over a chair (which in turn had been flipped as well), nothing seemed too inconvenient for the staff. “Maybe we should leave them an apology?”

“Leave them a big tip, sweetie,” Triffany advised as she flipped the coffee maker on. While they waited, they worked on tidying up what could be salvaged, and what couldn’t.

“Hey, Triffany?”

“Yeah?”

“What were you and Wiggle doing the other day?”

Triffany had almost forgotten about it. When her mind slipped to thoughts of the previous day, that flustered moment of song with Wiggle returned.

“I was helping her practice.” She decided to keep the new song out of the conversation. It would be a big surprise for Gramble anyways.

Triffany thought that’d be the end of it.

“Is that all?” he continued. “She was talking a little bit about you yesterday. About how you were real supportive of her, and how you understand how heartfelt her music was and everything. Got me a little worried.”

“She… said that?”

It was only the one song. Nothing exciting. Sure, it got under Triffany’s fur in all the right places, but she didn’t think it would be such a big deal to Wiggle. Then again, Triffany wasn’t an artist in the traditional sense. Maybe it did mean something.

“What do you think?” she asked Gramble.

He thought about it for a moment, dropping the last piece of wreckage onto a pile in the corner by the door.

“She doesn’t talk to a lot of people about the amount of effort that goes into her work. I think Buddy and I are the only ones she’s really opened up to about it. Buddy was more about trying to understand her I guess, but for me, she talks about a lot of things. Her inspirations, her techniques, her style, her… past.” He paused before continuing. “But I think it’s good. I’m glad that she’s able to show more of herself off to her friends.”

His smile was reassuring to Triffany.

“You think?” she pondered to him. If it was so good, why was he worried?

“Well, yeah! Wiggle is at her best when she can be herself – her real self. She’s the best Wiggle when it comes from the heart. I admire that side of her.”

Triffany smiled down at him.

“I do too, Gramble.”

A wave of relief swept over her. She was afraid her little fangirl infatuation might have begun to cause trouble between the budding couple. She shrugged it off as thinking too hard and tried to move on with the day.

Wiggle was really lucky to have Gramble, she thought to herself.

* * *

10:00am

No Q&A that day, but Wiggle did need to meet up with the rest of the artists on the day five set and go over the agenda. Wiggle called it the shortest of the meetings, as they would get progressively longer the closer it got to the day.

“Nothing’s finalized yet,” she said, donning moon shaped sunglasses today, “but they’re going to need to know a general idea of what’s going on. I’m not looking forward to arguing with the other artists about it.”

They all could imagine. Oh, to be a fly on the wall between a group of disco divas.

“Triff, darling, do you think you could help me with practice again tonight? I was thinking about working on the act itself. You know they’re gonna be asking me about my crew placement and choreography.”

Triffany agreed and set a time for 5:30pm. That way, she could help and then enjoy dinner with Wambus and the rest of them.

“See you at lunch, my sweets!” she said, exiting the suite.

* * *

11:17am – Side A

The theme that day was grunge and punk. The stadium was a much darker color than the previous day. Gone were the neon-colored hues and lights, replaced with back alley drab shades and blinking nightclub signs. There was even humidity piped into the air, to give it a truly heavy and grungy aesthetic.

“This era depressed me,” Wambus sighed as he looked down at all the vinyl memorabilia laid out across three whole tables.

He recognized some of the bands and remembered how sad a lot of the music was. Not even sad-sad, but what he called “schoolyard sad.”

“Like getting dumped by your girl before the prom,” he explained to the boys. “Something like that?”

“Getting dumped before the prom?” Filbo nervously chuckled. “That’s crazy. That doesn’t happen to anyone, especially after someone’s spends all their money finding the right corsage and picking out the right tux. That’s silly. Hey look, better topics of conversation!”

He grabbed Buddy’s wrist and led them away.

“Poor sad sack,” Wambus muttered. He was elbowed by Triffany.

Gramble didn’t quite understand. He never went to prom. Not like he wanted to.

* * *

12:50pm – Side A

Wiggle had agreed to meet them for lunch around 12:30pm. She was late.

“Their meeting probably went long,” Gramble reasoned. The group thought so too.

Then it ended up being 1:15pm.

With no call or notice, they decided to have lunch without her.

Seafood sounded nice.

* * *

12:10pm – Side B

Wiggle wasn’t happy about any of this. She was expecting the meeting to be an in-and-out sort of affair; nothing too taxing to worry about until closer to the set. Instead, it started as expected, but then the artists had the audacity to do this.

Sitting right across the table from her, no more than three feet, was DJ BigThing, relaxed with his hands folded into each other.

“Wiggle, hear us out,” one of the artist’s began. “You were pretty antsy about the song at the Q&A yesterday, and then you had that outburst at the VIP box. It didn’t make you look good.”

Another artist snarled with, “Didn’t make us look any better. Asking us what your problem was like we knew you.”

They did not. She knew a few of her fellow artists from once upon a time ago, but not on a personal level. Most of them were able to escape their first hits. She was forever labeled as a “one hit wonder.”

“We just want things put to rest, so we invited DJ BigThing here to chat with you. So, try to put some water under the bridge, okay?”

Wiggle crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. The last person she wanted to see was the artist who twisted the voice of love and admiration she had poured her heart and soul into.

BigThing cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry if my music upset you Ms. Wigglebottom. I had no idea that the sample was your voice from a song you just recently released. If I had known, I wouldn’t have incorporated into ‘Separation Anxiety’.”

The song had a name – and a fitting one to boot.

“I hope you can accept my apologizes. I honestly didn’t mean anything by it.”

He bowed his head like a disciplined schoolboy, asking for forgiveness from an elder. Technically, that was exactly what he was doing. His tone was respectful, his mannerisms were kind, and it was obvious he had a lot of love for his music.

She looked around the room and saw all eyes on her, including a member of the media who had been invited for “backstage exclusives”. She had been pressed up against a wall.

“Listen DJ BigThing…”

“You can call me Middlemuck. Middlemuck Gooseriddler.”

“…Mr. Gooseriddler. That sample you used came from a very personal place of mine, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t play it live. I can’t stop you from selling your album, and I wouldn’t want to anyways. Music should be free to flow like the rapids in the riiiiiiiver! But ‘Ode to Gramble’ is a song I’ve cherished making and I wouldn’t be where I’m at right now without it.”

Someone mumbled “debatable” somewhere in the room. It was followed by the scribbling of the reporter’s notepad.

Middlemuck looked down at his hands and moved his mouth side to side as he sat in thought.

“This Gramble must be very important to you, huh?”

“He is.”

“Was he… the tall blue one?” Middlemuck asked with a piercing glance.

She paused for a moment.

“Excuse me?”

“I noticed you hanging out with a specific group the other day. You seemed to be pretty close to them. Maybe he wasn’t the tall blue one. Was he the one hanging out with the shorter blue one? Couldn’t really make out the face on that one. What about the little pink one?”

Wiggle flinched. Middlemuck noticed.

“Oh! He was the one helping the stage crew set up before the first day. He seemed like a good guy from what I noticed. I didn’t get a good chance to introduce myself to either of you since I accidentally ruined Natalia Nightlife’s skirt. Her fault for wearing such an expensive get up to a party, right?”

Wiggle wasn’t sure what to say. She hadn’t noticed him spying on them. Then again, she didn’t know what he even looked like until last night.

“You… could have introduced yourself to us at any time,” she said, clearing her throat.

“I was getting accosted by the press,” he laughed. “You know how they can be. I’m sure you had to deal with that mess when ‘Do the Wiggle’ came out, right?”

She did. It was awful. A bunch of drama seeking yes-grumps. She was glad they eventually fell off and went to the next big sensation. Though, she did miss the POSITIVE attention they gave.

Didn’t matter. She had her friends now.

In any case, there were more important things to worry about for the day.

“How about this,” she groaned, “you can keep playing your song, as long as you acknowledge the song it came from. Update your album cover or something, I don’t know. I just want people to know my song is out there.”

Embarrassed, he scratched the back of his neck.

“I’ll chat with my label about updating the CD packaging. I understand wanting your music to be heard. It must be tough coming back onto the scene after so long and having some young punk get all the credit, huh?”

Boy, the things she could have answered with. Instead, she took a deep breath.

“It’s fine. The song and its meaning are more important than anything right now. Do we have a deal at least?”

“Oh, oh! Sure! Absolutely!” he replied with a smile. “No more live performances of it, and I’ll try to credit the song on the next CD print. That’s all totally doable.”

They agreed and shook hands, which became a photo opportunity for the reporter. She expected the headlines to sway heavily in favor of Middlemuck though. At least it was taken care of. That was one problem off her mind.

* * *

2:03pm

“No, I understand,” Gramble sighed, speaking into the phone. “You can tell me all about it tonight when we go out to eat. Uh huh… I know. They really shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that. I know. I love you too. See you tonight.”

He hung up the phone.

Filbo watched him, feeling a bit ill and rubbing his belly.

“Tough meeting?” he inquired.

Gramble jumped down from the stool he needed to use the phone on the kitchen counter and approached the couch where they were all hanging out.

“She didn’t give me the finer details, but you all won’t guess what happened.”

* * *

3:11pm

The supposed cooked fish they got from that vendor was not as well cooked as they were led to believe.

It didn’t sit well in Filbo and Buddy’s stomachs.

It messed with Triffany’s but didn’t knock her down like it did the other two. In her line of work, she had built a pretty decent tolerance to raw or undercooked food.

Wambus hadn’t been all that hungry earlier and settled on Triffany’s fries. They had been soggy and just as disappointing.

Gramble was a vegetarian, so no fish for him.

By the hour’s end, two were bedridden, and one was nursing on ginger ale.

* * *

5:33pm

Triffany slowly made her way into storage room 14, holding a 2-liter bottle of ginger ale close to her chest. She wasn’t as sickly as Buddy or Filbo, but she did need to take things slow. At least she wasn’t feeling overly nauseous. It took a lot for her stomach to evacuate its contents.

Wiggle noticed her sickly stature as soon as she walked in.

“Darling, you look positively green right now!”

A joke or serious concern? It was just easier to chuckle and move on.

“Bad lunch,” Triffany said, letting loose a belch. “You should see Filbo and Buddy. They got the worst of it.”

“You sure you’re going to be okay?”

“I’ve had far worse, believe me.” She sat down on the matt, placing her ginger ale next to her, before pulling a bag of saltines out of her vest pocket. “What are we working on today?”

Wiggle hesitated to start just like that, but Triffany was trying to put her best foot forward, so respected that and continued.

“Well, I was thinking about practicing the song again. I tinkered with the general melody and wanted your opinion on it. Then I brought some grumpequins in because they need to know the placement of the band and if I needed dancers and… Triff, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Just fine,” Triffany answered with a cracker in her mouth.

“What about Gramble and Wambus?”

“Their fine. Wambus and Gramble didn’t have the same thing we did. Filbo and Buddy are bedridden right now.”

And just then, an idea sparked.

“Hey, Wiggle! We should do a date night with our boys tonight!”

Date night?

“Filbo and Buddy will be out of it, so I’m pretty sure it’ll just be the four of us. Wambus and I haven’t been on a couple’s date in forever! What do you think? Sounds like fun, huh?”

That did sound like fun, but Wiggle was a little worried about Triffany’s health, first and foremost.

“I think it’s great, but are you _SURE_ you’re going to be up for it?”

Triffany twisted off the cap of her ginger ale and took a sip.

“I’ll be fine. I don’t have a weak constitution like the others. I mean, if I can handle bugsnax, I can handle a little undercooked fish. Besides, I’ll probably be hungry for a salad or something by then.”

If Triffany didn’t have a problem with it, then it was okay with Wiggle.

“I’m all onboard then. We’ll head back to the hotel before 7:00pm. Until then though, listen to this…”

* * *

7:20pm

Triffany’s nausea let up by the time they had finished practice. They dropped the suggestion for a double date to the boys, and they seemed to be onboard, if not a little concerned.

“Where do we want to eat?” Gramble asked.

“Leave that one to me!” Wiggle replied.

The hotel itself had its own built in, high dining restaurant. Usually, it was open to any patron who was staying at the hotel, and ONLY those staying within the hotel. However, with the festival happening, it had been converted into a themed restaurant, changing daily with the moving aesthetics. On top of that, it had been reserved for backstage pass carriers, artists, merchants, vendors, and festival crew.

In order to accommodate such a wide range of customers, the menu had been shortened and the prices dropped. This meant three entrees listed per evening, but made them affordable, especially to staff on a dinner break.

The atmosphere, though dressed in the grunge and punk of the day (that the backstage crew and organizers hated after being subjected to it all day), was quiet and subdued. Slow synth played over the speakers, helping to add to the mood, while restaurant employees attended to a stage setup for anybody who wanted to cut loose on some karaoke (only after 7pm on certain days of the week).

There was no issue with them getting a table for four. The restaurant was about half full when they entered, but the maître-d assured them it would get busier, usually from day hands, artists, and entourage not associated with that evening’s set.

Food and drink were filling. Conversation was plentiful. The mood was loose and relaxed.

“You always could try shipping sauce, Wambus,” Gramble suggested. “It’s what I do with my crocheting.”

“Your hats are donations, Gramble,” Wambus countered. “We gotta factor in shipping costs, taxes, currency exchange. We did all the research.”

Triffany nodded in agreement.

“Can’t afford it,” she added. “Maybe if the organic market really takes off, we can try, but it’s so difficult to find any buyers outside the farmer’s market back home.”

Employment had been a relative theme to the table discussion. The conversation of money was kept to as bare a minimum as it could, but it was difficult for Wambus and Triffany not to discuss that, while within livable wage, still had a lot to do before they could consider themselves comfortable.

“What about research digs?” Wiggle asked. “Anything new on the front there?”

Triffany looked away from the group for a second before answering.

“I wish I could say yes, but… a lot of these research teams require you to pay your own way and don’t reimburse job expenses. The ones that do require a specific skill set, and that gap in my resume doesn’t make things look any better.”

Of the four of them, Triffany was the only one who really had to search for employment. The gap from Snaxtooth had actually done more harm than good to her career growth, and being surrounded by three others who had found some sort of worth in their skills after returning home felt like someone had their foot on her lungs and was pressing down with all their force.

They all noticed how uncomfortably silent she had become.

“Darling, I just know you’re going to bounce back. Times always get harder before they get better,” Wiggle assured her. “Worse comes to worse, shine that pretty face of yours and mingle with the right crowd. Use what your grump gave you.”

Triffany blushed, thanking her for the compliment, before feeling something nudge at her foot.

Wambus noticed the odd overly friendly tone between the two. He leaned back in his chair to get a better view of underneath the table, and sure enough, Wiggle had been playfully nudging Triffany with her foot. He looked at both of them with prying eyes, catching them in an affectionate moment.

Noticing, they both straightened up, feeling a wave of embarrassment sweep over them.

Wiggle expected the worse, holding her breath. Would Wambus call them out? Would he keep quiet until he was alone with her later? No. Instead, he rolled his eyes and stood up.

“Gramble, come help me get these girls some refills.”

“Oh, uh… okay.”

They both left the table and headed to the bar to order another beer and a sparkling pear water.

Wiggle exhaled, leaning against the table as if she had just dodged a bullet.

“What was that?”

Triffany smiled awkwardly before downing what little drops of beer were left in her bottle. How was she going to explain this?

“You’re not the first grumpus we’ve personally known to try and secretly flirt with me. He’s pretty fine about it, as long as I tell him.”

“Fine?” Wiggle pondered out loud. “Wait, flirting!? I was being cute, girl. I don’t want to jump your grump. You’re a married woman. Wait…” She focused in on Triffany. “Are you and Wambus…?”

“Are me and Wambus what?”

“Drinks here!”

Gramble announced their return, sliding a glass of sparkling water across to Wiggle, while Wambus handed an open beer bottle to Triffany.

“Are you and Wambus swingers?”

Wambus tripped over his own foot trying to get back into the chair, falling over, and hitting his head right on the corner of the table. Triffany called out. Wiggle hissed in breath through her teeth. Gramble practically screamed for a doctor.

* * *

8:38pm

Triffany handed the bag of ice over to Wambus, thankful the doctor that was dining in the restaurant excused his fall as lucky. No blood, and it didn’t look like he had a concussion, but it would turn itself into a bruise. They were just thankful it wasn’t anything serious.

After the staff got him an icepack, they helped Wambus back to their suite.

“Ow,” he groaned as he felt the bag to the side of his head. “To answer your question, Wiggle: no, we’re not swingers.”

A simple enough answer. He followed with a lite grin before flinching at the pulsing pain from his head.

Wiggle cleared her throat. “Sorry, Wambus,” she replied. If she hadn’t asked that question then Wambus wouldn’t have been caught off guard and wouldn’t have slipped. At least he was okay.

It did accomplish one thing though. It got the question out in the open.

“Why would you ask that?” Gramble questioned his girlfriend, a little disappointed by Wiggle’s blurting of such a private topic. “I would expect that from someone like Buddy, but not you.”

“I know, darling. It’s just, well…”

She paused, blushing and feeling her embarrassment spread further. Both Triffany and Wambus realized that she hadn’t talked with Gramble about the practice sessions in detail yet. Things could get awkward.

“Gramble,” Triffany interrupted, “I kind of… came on to Wiggle when we were doing practice the other day.” That got his wide-eyed attention. “But it wasn’t like I was gonna whisk her away or anything. Her voice got to me is all. What’s a good way to describe it…? Schoolgirl crush?”

Wiggle nodded, trying to keep things as on the level, adding, “And this evening, I ended up playfully,” she emphasized, looking at Wambus, “play a little footsy with her. That’s all. I wasn’t even flirting. Just being Wiggle. And then Wambus took you off to get drinks, and there was a big misunderstanding and then…”

They knew what happened next.

The three of them waited for Gramble to say something, but he remained silent, giving all of them confused looks. He focused particularly on Wambus, one part for being injured, and the other trying to understand him just from the expression on his face.

“What do you think?” Gramble asked him.

Wambus was surprised he was asked anything at all. Surely, Triffany or Wiggle would be the better choice to get answers from. But no, it ended up being the sauce farmer.

“I think it was just like Wiggle said – a big misunderstanding,” he reasoned. “I don’t doubt Triffany here may have a little crush on Wiggle, but I don’t think she meant anything by it. Triffy can be flirty when she wants to be.”

It sounded reasonable, but it still didn’t make much sense to Gramble. Maybe it was because he was the youngest in the group, or maybe it was his lack of interpersonal relationships, but the pieces didn’t stack up.

“I don’t think I understand,” Gramble continued. “Aren’t you mad at Triffany? I’m mad at Wiggle right now for asking such a personal question.”

Wambus let out a great laugh, before flinching once more from the proceeding pain.

“Nah. She and I have had our share of crushes and adventures. Two decades of marriage can do a lot of things to a pair. Marriage is all about communication and boundaries. We know each other’s like the backs of our paws.”

Triffany nodded and replied, “I really didn’t mean anything from it, Gramble. Don’t be mad at Wiggle. Again, it was just something of a misunderstanding. I swear I’m not trying to steal Wiggle away or anything.”

Gramble listened and began to somewhat understand, but he still had questions.

“But… why though? I get having crushes and all of that, but I didn’t think it would be something you’d do when you’re married. Have you two been with other people while married?”

Wiggle then chimed in.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” she explained with a forming smile. “I asked them because I wanted to be sure. They’re amazing together, but when Wambus just shrugged off my foot, that made me a bit suspicious, honey.”

Triffany and Wambus looked at each anxiously.

“We’re not swingers, Wiggle,” Triffany said. “It’s as Wambus said: we really trust each other and know to be open and honest about everything. Yeah, we’ve… fooled around before with other grumps, but not like total strangers or anything, and most of the time, we’re in the same room anyways. You’d be surprise how much fun that can be!”

She said it with such sincerity, that you’d think she wasn’t trying to clear up a giant misunderstanding, which was turning out to be the word of the day. Triffany could have left it there, but she had to keep overexplaining.

“Of course, the last time I did anything outside of Wambus was a good decade or so ago, and Wambus was in the other room anyways. He was a good friend of ours.”

“Yours,” Wambus corrected.

“Mine, right. Worked with me on a lot of digs. Super swell fella. Got himself a book deal and everything. Even has a wing in a hospital named after him. Helped us when we defaulted on a loan, and also helped us find the house we’re living in now, and…”

“Triffy.”

Word flood.

“Sorry, Wamby,” she apologized before turning her attention back to Wiggle and Gramble. “His name was Micklee. I haven’t talked to him in a while. His wife hates me.” She smiled as she said that.

Wambus exhaled tiredly through his nose. He didn’t have the strength to remind her that Micklee’s wife hated her because the two of them got into a fistfight over – among all things – the cover art for Micklee’s book. One would think it would have been the fact that Micklee had been fooling around with his friend WHILE in the early planning stages with his then fiancé.

“Grumping fool made my wife the other woman,” he growled to himself.

All while this was going on, Gramble and Wiggle just watched and observed, taking more interest than they thought they would. Strange as it was, the two certainly showed off how strong their bond was.

* * *

10:29pm

Things eventually cleared up and the mood returned to a simple date night. A call to room service provided them with some cake with their conversation, opening the floor to more stories from Triffany and Wambus’ past. Injury and awkwardness aside, it was a surprisingly insightful and pleasant date night.

Gramble eventually suggested an end to the evening, convincing Wiggle to try and get some sleep instead of staying up past midnight like the previous evening. They wished the couple goodnight, apologizing again for the personal questions, checked in on Buddy and Filbo (still bedridden), and headed back to their room.

“Weird night,” Gramble mentioned, already under the blankets of their shared bed.

“Weird night,” Wiggle repeated as she placed that day’s sunglasses with the rest of her weekly set on the dresser. “I had fun though. Who knew those two were so interesting?”

Gramble agreed. For all the oddness of the evening, the stories that Wambus and Triffany told kept him enamored the entire time. Times about no money, lots of borrowed money, their first jobs, the first time they met, the places they had lived – just so much.

“Wiggle, do you think we’ll have memories like that?”

“We already do, darling,” she answered, crawling under the blanket with him. “We got some of the best stories already. Stories that have a deep daaaaaark secret!”

Gramble agreed with Triffany: that voice of Wiggle’s could sworn the soul out of a saint.

“What do you think of them?” he asked. “What do you REALLY think of them?”

Wiggle was just about to switch off the light before that question hit her. She froze in place with her handle on the lamp switch, thinking about the proper way to answer it.

“Wambus is a good man. He cares more about her than I thought he did. And that Triffany is… well, would you be mad if I said it was nice being ‘cute’ a little bit with her?”

She wondered if maybe she answered that too bluntly.

With a click of the lamp, the room was covered in dark.

“I don’t think it’s bad,” he answered. “I’m not mad either. I’ve just been thinking about how they’re relationship is compared to ours.” He fell back and let his head hit the pillow. “I know they’ve been married a good two decades, but it’s weird, Wiggle. I thought I understood relationships from books and movies, but seeing Wambus and Triffany, and even everyone from Snaxburg has got me thinking.”

He felt Wiggle’s arm curl over him, pulling him close to her body. He sighed happily, grabbing for fur and taking in her warmth.

“About what?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to word it. It’s like… I love you, but everything feels really disconnected. Like… I’m not putting in enough effort, so it feels like I could be doing more, but it’s so hard, and I’m kind of scared to say anything, and you deserve so much, and…”

“Gramble, darling, you’re doing it again.”

Gramble the nervous rambler. He supposed he was like Triffany in that regard, how one can just go on and on. But while she favored stories, history, and research, his was pure and absolute anxiety.

“I’m sorry, Wiggle. I just don’t know what our relationship is right now.”

She placed a paw on his head and began to rub it gently. He cooed to her touch, feeling a sense of soft _**comfort**_ come to him.

“It’s a good question,” she admitted. “I really do love you. Maybe it’s my work and everything. Maybe we need more time alone to talk about things. Once the festival is over, it’s back home and then just you and me. How does that sound?”

He acknowledged with a hum. More alone time together would help, wouldn’t it? They did alright during the tour. Perhaps it really was just the separation that was doing it to them.

Or maybe the problem was still him?

Gramble tried his best to shake the bad thoughts, but for some reason, they kept going back to Triffany. The way the two of them talked about the practices, how Triffany talked about flirting, Wiggle being “cute”, and all that. It wasn’t that it worried him, but more so that it made him feel like something was missing.

“Missing what, darling?” Wiggle asked.

He had been muttering to himself. What was he missing? What was it that Triffany had that he didn’t? Was it her brains? The color of her fur? Her height? Her gender? Her… assets?

“Wiggle, you know I don’t like fooling around right?”

“Fooling around?” It took her a moment to understand what he was implying. “Oh, right! Of course, Gramble. I don’t want to force you to do that. Is that what you’re worried about?”

Gramble was worried about many a thing, and that was only just one of them. But was it something that Triffany had that he had no interest in?

“When we _do_ do it, is it enough for you?” he asked.

“Gramble?”

“Wiggle, be honest,” he sighed, looking up at her with curious eyes that pierced the dark, “if you could have one night with Triffany would you?”

Wiggle loosened her clutch on Gramble to get a good look down at him. She was about to laugh it off, and tell him something romantic and poppy, but it appeared to be a serious question. How does one answer that to their partner?

Simple.

With honesty.

* * *


	4. Turn Up the Old Victrola, Gonna Dance the Night Away

* * *

** Day Three **

7:01am

Buddy burst through the door, feeling like a brand new grumpus.

“Morning,” Triffany yawned, only just getting up a moment ago, wondering if maybe it was a good idea to lock the door going forward. The sound of the door slamming open was better than that first cup of joe. “Coffee?” she offered.

Buddy pointed to the coffee maker and helped themself to a fresh brew while the two of them settled in to talk about the other day.

“Filbo’s still bedridden? Poor dear.”

It wasn’t too bad, according to Buddy. He was mobile at least, but still too weak to leave the suite. Triffany offered the spare bottle of ginger ale she hadn’t needed the other day.

The subject then shifted over to how her and everyone else spent their evening.

“It was… unique.”

She went off and explained most of the “wackiness”, omitting the sensitive topics and anything that might have been too private. It was one thing to chat about those things with another couple. It was another to explain it to Buddy, who absorbed information and gossip like a sponge. Triffany was a generally open person, but she was smart enough to keep most of it closed off while Buddy or Beffica were around – especially when those two were together.

“I think we explained things well, all things considered. They both seemed to get it.” She thought to herself for a moment, hoping the two of them took something insightful away from the double date. “Anyways, what’s the theme for today?”

* * *

7:49am

Gramble stretched out, feeling his back pop and pain from tossing and turning the night before. On nights like those, sleep walking was a blessing. At least he didn’t slouch when he did.

He quietly tiptoed out of the bedroom, grabbing his favorite strabby cap from off the dresser as he did. He made his way to the door leading out into the hallway and stopped just short of the knob.

His mind was already starting to race. After the previous night, he felt a little awkward meeting up with Triffany, especially after he and Wiggle had their discussion. He trotted over to the couch and plopped himself onto it.

“What am I supposed to be feeling?” he asked himself.

He didn’t answer himself, and instead looked for something to take his mind off the all too frank conversations of 8:00pm to 2:00am that night. Maybe it wasn’t 2:00am, but it was somewhere around there before he and Wiggle decided to get some sleep. They didn’t cuddle like they usual did.

“Rock and Racket – The fusion of genres,” Gramble read from the festival brochure. Sounded like there was going to be a lot of guitar that day. Perhaps there would be a mosh pit at the set. “I wonder how yesterday’s went?”

None of them had gone. He reasoned it was probably for the best considering how the first set ended. But beyond that, he expected the day to be like the previous – vendors, merchants, lunch, events, dinner, and whatever happens after that.

After that…

“Get it together, Gramble,” he groaned. “You asked and she answered. You two talked about it, like a good couple does.” He looked up at the ceiling fan above, watching the blades circle around and around. “A good couple of what, though?”

He wasn’t going to get the answer he wanted, because he wasn’t even sure he knew how to approach any of it. Whatever _it_ was, he was scared of it.

“Get it together,” he repeated, before hopping off the couch and heading into the hallway. “Get it together.”

* * *

10:26am

*knock knock*

Wiggle turned away from the bathroom mirror, staring vacantly at the direction of the noise. Someone was at the entrance. She wiped off the water on her face and quickly wiggled her way over to the door.

“Coming, coming!” she called out.

Peeking into the peephole, she was surprised to find it was Wambus. And there she was expecting it to be Filbo or Buddy, if they were well enough to do anything for the day.

She unlocked the door and greeted the blue grumpus with a welcoming smile.

“Good mooooorning!” she caroled. “I’m almost done getting ready, then we can all head out.”

She turned around and started her way back to the bedroom bathroom.

Wambus took a step into the suite, looking around at the room. Nobody would be able to tell how angry Wiggle had been the first day of the festival. Triffy and Gramble had done a fine job cleaning up the place, he reckoned.

“You all don’t have to worry about me,” she yelled from the other room. “I would have made it there eventually. I’m even up from 11:00! I can’t say I’m happy about it.”

“I get you,” he answered, looking at how immaculately clean and unused the kitchen area was. “I like to sleep in too, especially during the winter. Triffany was always the early bird in our relationship. Only time I ever see her sleep in is when she’s doing research or on a dig. Girl loses all sense of time then.”

“I know the feeling!” Wiggle called back. “When I’m working on new material, I can’t tell the difference between a second and Sunday.”

Perhaps that explained her poor sleep schedule, Wambus reasoned.

“And they didn’t send me, by the way!” he replied.

“Oh?”

“I wanted to come see you for myself. Wanted to check and see if you were holding up alright after the misses and I ended up being a bit too open last night.”

“Water under the bridge, darling!” she sung with a kind of elation. “I thought it was fascinating! Are you doing alright though? How’s your head?”

“Fine,” he said. “Doesn’t hurt that much anyways.” He winced as a pain pinged through the side of his head, like the bruise heard them talking about it. “You sure you’re alright though?”

She appeared from out of the bedroom, sporting sunglasses with cat head shaped lenses.

“I’m fine, darling, really! Why do you keep asking?”

She stopped mid-step, suddenly knowing full well why he was asking.

“What did Gramble say?” she asked.

“He said _some_ things. His mood seemed more jittery than usual though. Then he, uh… told us about a conversation you two had last night. I was a little worried for him and Triffy’s sake, so I came to see if there was any trouble in paradise. Sorry if we caused that. Oh uh, Filbo’s still sick, by the way.”

That answered most of her questions, particularly the one about Buddy and Filbo. But her thoughts only focused on them for a split second before returning to Gramble. She had hoped he would have waited for her. The intention was to breach the subject later with Triffany and Wambus, and try to talk about it like adults. But, it looked as though the ball go rolling early.

“Sooooo,” she trailed, her voice becoming quieter. “What do you two think?”

* * *

11:59am

Press circuits were the worst part of the job in Wiggle’s opinion. Being that the festival sported so many artists, it was only natural that so many reporters and media journalists would be there to get as much dirt as grumpusly possible.

“Sorry, everyone. I can’t make lunch again,” she explained to everyone backstage.

It was expected. She was going to be busy during the day just about every day until her set, and even then, she still had to deal with post-performance Q&A (which she had the intention of sneaking out of) as well as maybe one more day of dealing with the press.

“I don’t think I’ll be around for dinner either,” she continued. “Wambus should be able to give you the details. There’s just so much happening, I can’t keep up.”

She kneeled down and gave Gramble a kiss. He hugged her tightly, giving her one as well. They smiled at one another, feeling that familiar sense of **comfort** .

“I’ll see all of you later!”

She a blew a kiss to everyone else, blowing another one above her to Filbo in his hotel suite.

* * *

12:22pm

They all went vegetarian for lunch. After the previous day, they agreed to take Gramble’s lead and just stick with food that came out of the ground.

“Looks like it’s just you and me tonight, Gramble,” Wambus said as he examined his tofu hotdog. It looked and smelled surprisingly authentic. For as much as they cost, they better have.

“Practice is going to go long,” Triffany added. “We’re so close to figuring out how to end her set. I’m bringing a new sketchbook to take down all the stage routines she wants to finalize.”

There was an awkwardness between the three that went unspoken, doing their best to maneuver around a subject.

Buddy, meanwhile, had agreed to take care of Filbo. They had wanted to go to the third day’s performances, but as long as Filbo stayed sick, they were committed to taking care of them.

Gramble expected as much and promised to grab them a souvenir from the vendors. He then thought about what was going to happen when the day was ending. He wasn’t so sure about spending an entire evening hanging out with Wambus.

“What did you want to do?” he anxiously asked.

Wambus shrugged.

“We can figure that out when we get there.”

* * *

12:23p

“You and DJ BigThing certainly seem to have a feud happening,” the reporter started with Wiggle. “How do you feel about his rising success over your flailing one?”

Of course. Like sharks circling bloody meat.

This was why she didn’t like press circuits.

She looked up at the clock: there was still another hour and a half of this.

* * *

2:40pm

Gramble had a lot of trouble focusing on exploring the day’s theme. There were a few things that caught his eye and took his mind off of his thoughts, but it all led back to Wiggle. He found a record for someone he liked growing up, and that Wiggle said she knew as an acquittance. She promised to get their autograph for him at some point.

He bought the record and decided to hold her too it.

He wished there was a vinyl player back at the suite. There was a song from there he really wanted to listen to. It wasn’t that he loved the song. It was just loud enough to drown out his thoughts.

* * *

3:09pm

Buddy came back to find Filbo passed out on the bathroom floor with sick oozing out of his mouth.

He had to be rushed to the local hospital and put on an IV. They were all assured he was in no danger and would probably be out once the drugs they administered had passed through his system.

Buddy stayed behind to stay by his side.

The doctor assured them again that Filbo would be fine.

* * *

5:40pm

“You still going to practice?” Wambus asked Triffany. He sipped on some water, watching both her and Gramble pace in different parts of the suite. “I don’t think Wiggle even knows about Filbo yet.”

Triffany stopped and checked her wristwatch. If there was going to be practice, she needed to leave shortly.

“I promised I would help her,” she replied. “Worse comes to worse, I’ll just come back to the suite and we can all go get some dinner. If anything happens, I’ll call you with the details.”

Wambus grimaced for a second. He never liked that word. Details. That being said, Triffany was a master of them, and also the only grumpus that Wambus liked hearing them from. He nodded as she excused herself to take a shower and get ready.

“That sounds like a good idea,” Gramble said. “I think I’m gonna go get myself cleaned up too.”

He only gave Wambus a passing stare before heading out.

Wambus sighed, swirling the water in his glass. He hadn’t decided if the day was going by too fast or too slow.

* * *

6:17pm – Side A

“That’s a relief,” Wiggle said after hearing the doctor’s diagnosis of Filbo. “That boy keeps getting knocked down but keeps finding ways to get back up.”

Triffany nodded as she leaned against the mirror in the back of the room.

“Did you still want to do practice tonight?” she asked. “I can take you to see Filbo if you’re worried about him.”

“Nah. I know he’s gonna pull through. Buddy’s with him anyways. Don’t want to cramp their alone time, you know?”

Triffany smiled and shook her head.

“You’re the only one who seems to think there’s anything going on between them.”

“Call it a sixth sense, Triff,” Wiggle replied with a shrug. “I’m usually pretty good at it.”

Silence filled in the space of the room again. They both wanted to talk about it – that thing that was weighing the mood down. Perhaps they could find a way to bring it up naturally?

“So, what’s on the agenda?” Triffany asked as she pushed away from the mirror and pulled out her sketchbook. “You wanted to work on a dance routine, right? I drew out a layout of the stage. Come here and help me.”

They both knelt down on the mat, Triffany laying her book down flat. Inside, she had drawn a surprisingly accurate recreation of the stage on one page, and an overheard blueprint of the layout. Every miniscule detail of the area was laid out on paper, save for a few pencil scratches and eraser marks here and there. Turning over to the next page revealed a similar design, except one page had the venue from the point of view of the stage, and the other with an overhead blueprint of the audience pit.

“Now,” Triffany began, “you wanted four dancers – two on each side of you – when you start on ‘Do the Wiggle’ and I think the best placement…”

“These are good.”

Wiggle picked up the sketchbook and looked over the four pages, flipping back and forth between them, enamored by the attention to detail inside.

“These are really good,” she exclaimed. “Better than Buddy’s!”

Triffany blushed.

“Stop that. I’m really only good with locations. Sometimes I’ll sketch artifacts and bone structures, but Buddy is hands down the better artist when it comes to anatomy. We’ve traded tips before.”

“Oh, come on, girl!” Wiggle said with a nudge to Triffany. “We all gotta stop selling ourselves short. These are great! I love them! When the festival is over, do you mind if I keep them?”

“Oh sure, Wiggle, but you do realize we’re going to be writing all over them, right?”

“So? We can keep the routine on there. It’ll be like a commemoration of our time working together. Got a pen?”

Triffany reached into her front pocket and pulled out a pen, grabbing a pencil while she was at it. She frowned at the eraser nearly down to a nub, kicking herself for not bringing “big blue” – her trusty oversized eraser.

“Finished!”

Triffany looked away from the pencil and noticed that Wiggle had signed all the pages she had sketched on. The popstar was careful to sign small and in the corner as not to ruin the artwork, before offering the pen to her friend.

“Go on. Sign.”

She wiggled the pen in front of Triffany, stopping any reluctance that she might have in signing her own artwork – something she had never done before.

“Is it really that good?” Triffany asked.

“Good? It’s great!”

Hearing the praise in her voice widened Triffany’s smile, giving her the confidence to take the pen and sign her name. Though, she was a little embarrassed by her own signature. For the artwork that Wiggle praised, Triffany’s signature was little more than a collection of illegible scribbles, not even readable by Wambus or Buddy on a good day.

Still, it felt good.

She looked into Wiggle’s eyes for a moment, as her friend did the same in return.

For a moment, it felt unreal.

They both laughed, as if they had fallen back into their youth, trying to figure out the mood and what it was that was bubbling around in their bellies.

“The routine?” Triffany finally broke.

“Oh, right! The dancers!” Wiggle added as she cleared her throat and looked down at the layout of the stage. She tried to imagine the provided dancers (whom she’d be working with the next day) and the best moves and placement for them. “We have to keep it simple since we only have two days to rehearse with them. You had an idea on where to put them, right?”

For the next hour, they worked on trying to figure out placements and general movements of the backup dancers. Once that was decided (which involved a lot of sprinting back and forth from one side of the room to next), Wiggle knew they had to decide the move set. For the first song, that was easy.

“’The Wiggle’, right?” Triffany inquired, mimicking the move herself.

Wiggle nodded, admittedly sick of seeing that move, but still chuckled watching Triffany perform it. She wondered if Wambus knew it as well.

With as much movement going on with that move, it made the spacing and general placement of the dancers for the first song incredibly easy.

“I know a couple of extra steps to show them too,” Wiggle explained. “I hope they don’t mind getting a little extra close with some of these moves. I wasn’t told if they would be men, or women, or non-binary, or a combination, or anything.”

“Does it matter?” Triffany asked.

“Not to me, but you know how fickle fans are. Some grumps take their live shows very seriously.”

“I don’t think I understand.”

“Probably best you don’t, darling,” Wiggle sighed.

She realized she hadn’t been told a lot of things about the set. Not just the dancers, but the tech team, the band members, the acoustics, etc. etc. She began to ponder if the other artists were given the same info, or if she had been kept out of the loop.

“Wiggle? You okay?”

“Hmmm….? Oh, sorry. I think I just suddenly got some pre-show jitters. I’m not sure if I have everything ready yet. The set is only two days away, and I suddenly don’t know if we’ll get everything together on time. Dancers, lights, music… my other song.”

Wiggle’s mood began to slip. For whatever reason, she was getting nervous about performing. That hadn’t happened in years.

She took off her sunglasses and began to rub the trickle of pain that had crept in between her eyes. Triffany noticed and tried to lighten the mood.

“Why don’t you teach me that dance?” she asked, willing and ready.

“Which dance?”

“The one you’re afraid of your dancers doing together. The close one. If I can do it with the great Wiggle Wigglebottom, then I think any grumpus can. And who knows? Maybe it’ll catch on.”

She offered her paw to Wiggle. The popstar smiled and took it.

“Okay then. First get into this position.” She showed Triffany a pose, extending both arms, but keeping one tucked in. “Oh wait! Music!”

She then rushed over to a cassette player on a large crate in the corner of the room and popped in a tape called “Wiggle’s Workout Wonderland.” The song began to play after a few seconds of silence. It was one that Triffany had never heard before.

“This isn’t ‘Do the Wiggle’,” she alerted, speaking the obvious.

“I know, I know, but I don’t think I can stand that song right now. I like this song better, and this one is one of my faves from baaaaaaack in the daaaaaay!” She wiggled back over to Triffany and mirrored the same pose as she did. “Okay, first, we reach out and grab each other’s paw with the arm that’s pulled in.”

The two did the move. Triffany felt a vibration rush from her hand to her body, as the beat and bounce that Wiggle had matched with the music was being transferred to her. Triffany never thought she had much rhythm, but Wiggle’s constant movement helped her keep up as the two of them practiced.

It started with the new dance, then moved on to “The Wiggle”, before moving to a connecting dance, before going back to The Wiggle. Usually, The Wiggle came with the chorus of the song, but without it Triffany kept flubbing the transition, which Wiggle found hilarious.

“You’re doing fine, Triff! Keep going!”

Eventually, she got the hang of it, still tripping over the movements from dance to dance. But it didn’t matter. The two of them were having too much fun – correcting one another, messing up foot placements, and eventually going completely out of order, well into the fourth song on the mix tape.

“Oh, I love this one!” Wiggle yelled as the song changed, grabbing Triffany’s arm before trying to twirl her.

The twirl almost came out correctly, but Triffany tripped over herself again, falling toward Wiggle with all her weight. Wiggle felt her push into her chest, as they both lost their balance, and begin to fall. Luckily, they were so close to the wall, Wiggle’s back caught it, feeling the full force of Triffany’s weight, wrapping her arms around her to try and centralize the two of them.

They both regained their balance after a moment of trying to figure out what happened, before looking at each other and letting out an awkward, then cheerful, and finally, enthusiastic laugh. It filled the room with an echoing emotion, only rivaled by the song playing on the player in the corner. And then…

…that was it. That was the moment.

Wiggle’s arms tightened. Triffany’s body moved upward. Eyes closed. Lips met.

The moment only lasted a second or two, but it caused them to forget how to breath the moment they parted away. The first one to remember had to be the first one to break the sudden tension that shared the room of classic disco music.

They both exhaled at the same time.

Neither knew what it was that went off inside them.

Suddenly, they were all over each other. Lips locked; mouths opened.

Exploring, touching, fighting for control. Neither relinquished it to the other, or themselves for that matter. They let their bodies move on their own, letting their minds release a sweet chemical that made everything around them hazy and foreign, but with sharpened focus that zeroed in on the grumpus in front of them.

“Door!” Wiggle suddenly exclaimed, breaking away. “Door!”

Triffany looked over at the door, realizing that it wasn’t locked. As they rushed for it, they tripped over each other, falling to the mat, wrestling forward to try and get to the door. They tripped once more before Triffany got there first and locked it tight. As she turned back around, Wiggle rushed her, pinning her to the door and resuming what they had started.

Kissing was euphoric. The touches were heavenly. The heat was pleasing.

They were glad the mats were soft enough to roll around on.

They were glad the room was soundproof.

They were glad the music had kept playing.

How much time went by? At various moment, they shot glances to the clock, but always forgot the time the moment they returned to each other. In a passing thought between brief images of the mind and emotion, Triffany thought of Floofty, knowing how they’d probably say something along the lines of “Can time be measured by the amount of moans Triffany Lottablog releases in an hour?”

Wiggle nipped on her neck. Triffany’s moans became ecstatic yelps. Would that be nine or ten an hour? She laughed, which was then changed to ecstasy as Wiggle’s paw began to eagerly move nether again.

But for all the dancing, the movement, and voice, neither could keep up without a moment to breath. After one last hurrah of a moment (culminating in a guttural and releasing yelp from Wiggle), they both sprawled out, feeling reserves on empty, and fur a mess.

Wiggle let out a content sigh: one of long and deep relief, and one of sheer accomplishment.

The music had run out long before they began to breath again. Whatever music there was had been playing in their heads. And even with a room that was soundproof, it didn’t stop the staff from knocking on the door to check on Wiggle.

“What time is it?” Triffany asked, listening to the pounding on the door.

“Does it matter?” Wiggle replied.

Triffany didn’t answer, picking her tired self-up and knocking back at the staff on the other side. She opened the door a crack and explained they were still in there.

“Some of the staff need use of the room,” they voice explained. “I’m sorry to inconvenience you Ms. Wigglebottom.”

Triffany looked back, just in time to catch a towel Wiggle had brought for dance practice. It got a workout in between the two of them.

“Are you two coming?” someone asked from the open crack in the door.

Wiggle did her best not to be snide and add something along the lines of “Already did!” Instead, she simply added, “We’re finishing up. The workout was… intense. Might need to spray down the mats, darling!”

Both came out looking a mess, but as long as they hurried along, nobody would suspect they just weren’t having a really intense practice session. Nobody at all. Save for the one person who recognized them and the infamous “sprint of shame”.

“How scandalous,” Middlemuck chuckled, happy that neither noticed him. “This makes getting flaked on by the puffball worth it. But I didn’t see anything, did I?” he announced to the tote bag that housed some of his turntable equipment.

Outside of that, the girls headed right back to Wiggle suite. Gramble wasn’t there, probably off with Wambus somewhere. When they realized they were alone again, they resumed their _dance_.

* * *

6:51pm – Side B

Gramble locked the hotel suite behind him as he stepped out into hallway. His stomach was doing flipflops. For a moment, he needed to lean his head against the door and calm down.

“Just try to relax, Gramble,” he told himself. “You don’t know what’s going to happen, or if you even have anything to worry about. It’s not like she’s gonna be upset about it. Or maybe she will be…”

He groaned and banged his head against the door a couple of time.

“Try to enjoy the evening. It won’t be that bad. Maybe we can go outside the hotel or something. Maybe there’s a bowling alley. Bowling sounds nice.”

After one more quick bang of his head against wood, he hurried on to Wambus and Triffany’s suite, giving it a knock while he waited for Wambus to answer.

“I wonder if Wambus likes bowling,” he pondered to himself.

He waited patiently, lost in thoughts of the whole day, trying his best to focus on the present. But as he did, something felt out of place and intrusive. He wasn’t alone.

“Excuse me.”

Gramble looked down the far end of the hallway. Someone was there, smiling, looking strangely familiar.

“You’re Gramble, right?” they asked, slowly approaching.

Gramble didn’t answer at first, trying to piece together who it was that was making their advance toward him. It wasn’t until he noticed the headphones that he recognized them.

“You’re DJ BigThing.”

“Middlemuck Gooseriddler,” the DJ introduced. “You can call me by my stage name if it helps you, though.”

Gramble watched Middlemuck slowly make his way toward him. He felt a strange uneasiness creep over him.

“Wiggle’s not here right now,” he said, assuming that was what the DJ was there for. “She’s at practice. Won’t be back until much later.”

He hoped that would be enough to scare him off. Instead, he shrugged indifferently.

“I figured as much. She’s not why I’m here though,” he explained. He was just a few feet away from Gramble now, his slow walk suddenly feeling like agony to Gramble. “I came to see you.”

The door opened, as Wambus’ voice appeared from the room.

“Is that you, Gramble?” he asked before looking down.

Gramble said he’d be around by seven-ish. He was expecting to see his worried expression, but not aimed at something in the hallway. Wambus peaked from around the doorframe and saw that they weren’t alone.

“What can we help you with, stranger?” he asked Middlemuck, not recognizing him, but not trusting him still.

“Middlemuck Gooseriddle aka DJ BigThing,” the grumpus introduced. “You must be another of Wiggle’s friends. I didn’t know she had her own entourage. I only came to meet Gramble, but this is a surprise too.”

Wambus didn’t like something in his voice. It sounded genuine, but there was this sickly-sweet tone that put him off.

“Nice to meet you,” Wambus replied, pushing past Gramble and offering his paw to Middlemuck. He positioned himself in front of Gramble.

Middlemuck had no choice but to return the gesture.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr…?”

“Wambus Troubleham.”

“Wambus.” He let go of the much taller grumpus’ paw, mentally taking note of the pose and aura he gave off. “Anyways. I wanted to see if Gramble wanted to hang out tonight. I’ve been so enamored by Wiggle’s ‘Ode to Gramble’ lately, that I just had to meet him. My security detail is off doing their own thing tonight, so I thought, ‘why not introduce myself while I have the chance?’ You’re welcome to join us too, of course.”

Wambus checked Gramble over his shoulder. He could tell from his face the answer was a hard “NO.”

“That’s awfully kind of you, stranger, but Gramble and I already have plans tonight. Maybe another time.”

He began to walk backwards, bumping into Gramble, giving him the cue to rush into the suite.

“Are you sure?” Middlemuck pressed. “I know quite a few places outside the hotel. Bowling perhaps? Do either of you like bowling?”

Middlemuck looked down at Gramble with a grin.

“We were thinking of staying in tonight,” Wambus replied. “I’ll make sure to tell Wiggle you were here. Though, I don’t think she’d appreciate you trying to take her friends after you tried to take part of her song.”

With that little quip, the two ducked inside, slamming the door.

“Take care, stranger!” Wambus yelled through the door. He looked over to Gramble. “Boy gives me a case of the something-awfuls.”

“I’m still behind the door!” Middlemuck yelled from the other side. Wambus slammed his fist against the door in response. “Message received. You two have a lovely night _in_.” He put emphasis on the last word.

Wambus looked through the peephole and watched the DJ walk away. He waited a minute before opening the door and checking the hallway.

“Is he gone?” Gramble asked.

Wambus wanted to say yes. Both sides of the hallway seemed clear, but there was still something wrong. He didn’t know what it was; he just felt it. Something was there, watching them. It felt like Middlemuck, but at the same time, not.

“Maybe?” Wambus said as he returned inside and locked the door.

Gramble sighed. So much for an evening outside of the hotel.

“I guess we really are staying in tonight, huh?” he bemoaned.

“I reckon we are.”

Both of them had been looking forward to getting away from the hotel for the first time in a few days too. Wambus grumbled about how bowling sounded nice, but let it go if it meant having to deal with DJ BigThing.

“We can make the most it,” he said, turning back to Gramble with a small smile.

And so they did. Room service was ordered. A movie was purchased on the TV. The lights were dimmed low. Laughter caused by an old black and white film filled the space between them.

“This was one of my old man’s favorites,” Wambus explained, finishing off the last of his only glass of white wine for the night. “He’d hoot and holler every time.”

Gramble watched him place the wine glass down on the coffee table in front of them. The movie was good, if not a little bizarre, but he found more interest in Wambus’ mannerisms. For example…

“I never pictured you to be the wine drinker between you and Triffany,” he mentioned.

“I got a penchant for the stuff,” Wambus explained as he looked at the glass. “Can’t do more than one glass though. Once I go into the second one, I’ll be somewhere else entirely.”

“But you’re fine now, right?”

“Yes sir! No crazy Wambus tonight,” he chuckled. “Last time I got really sloshed was a few years back on New Year’s Eve. Triffy and I overdid it, but we had a really good year and wanted to celebrate.”

His smile widened, which fascinated Gramble as much as the glass.

“You two have been together a long time. I can’t imagine what that must feel like.”

“Neither could we at your age.”

“I’m not that young, you know.”

“Boy, you weren’t even a blip in your mama’s eyes while I was probably a freshman in college. You’re an adult now, sure, but sometimes it’s hard to ignore that difference.” Wambus thought about it for a moment. “Wiggle’s got a little over a decade on you though, so I guess it’s not that important.”

“Do you think it should be?” Gramble asked.

Wambus shrugged.

“Different strokes for different grumps. Triffy and I are only a couple years apart, so we don’t think about it, but if I had to now? Hmmm… as long as they weren’t stupid young, I probably wouldn’t mind.”

“What’s stupid young?”

“Well, I turned fifty a few weeks back, so the age keeps going up? Maybe 25? You think that’s too young?”

Gramble had turned 24 a week after they got back from Snaxtooth. The youngest of Snaxburg. He suddenly felt, as Wambus put it, stupid young.

“Why are you asking me?” he grumbled.

“Well, what about you? What’s too OLD for you?”

He had to think about it.

“I don’t know. I never thought about it. 51?”

Wambus snorted a surprised laugh, adding, “Well, shoot. Looks like I made the cutoff.”

They both laughed it off. It was idle conversation in the middle of a movie Wambus had seen a dozen times. But Gramble looked away in wonder. It didn’t feel like an uncomfortable topic, but there certainly was an age difference between him and Wiggle. Could that have been one of the things that was bugging him?

“Hey Wambus. When did you and Triffany realize you were in love?”

The question caught Wambus off guard. He was about to answer it flippantly, but Gramble seemed to be too jittery for it to be just a standard inquiry.

“Do you want the whole story, or the short version?” he asked.

“The whole story.”

Wambus smiled, wishing he actually did have a little extra wine, but knew his own limits. It certainly would have made the explanation easier.

“Triffany had just graduated, and we were all celebrating. It was me, her, and our friend at the time.” He cleared his throat. “We were boozing it up, singing, dancing, celebrating. Well, our friend passed out, but she and I were still wide awake, so we decided to go outside for some fresh air.

We were stupid and made a lot of racket and were just being a general nuisance. Enough that somebody didn’t like it, and we got arrested for disturbing the peace. We got put in separate cells on opposite sides of the holding pen. Us being drunk as all get out, we ended up yelling to each other all night, ticking off everyone else there, until they finally put us in the same cell to shut us up.

We hugged and kissed, and then… it was just there.”

Gramble moved closer to him, listening intently.

“What was?”

“This feeling. Like, we had this lucid moment where we knew we had done something incredibly stupid, and that our friend was going to have to bail us out, and we were a mess all over. But we realized we were each other’s mess. Then we laughed. And then we told each other we loved the other. We kissed, and we fell asleep cuddling up in a corner of the cell.

When we woke up, we spent the day in the cell, just talking. It felt amazing. We just chatted all day about everything. It felt like we could listen to each other all day, every day. And we knew that it was love. Triffany and I were in love.”

He smiled wide, blushing from embarrassment. But his nostalgia faded almost as soon as it came. He cleared his throat again, trying to save face.

“And that was how we knew. Didn’t touch booze for about two years after that, though. Pretty nice story, huh?”

Wambus was surprised to see Gramble was blushing just from listening. He was so interested and so into it that he was just a few inches away from Wambus.

“That sounds… amazing, Wambus.” His thoughts drifted to Wiggle, causing his blush to disappear. “I wish I could have that sort of story with Wiggle.”

“Boy, you don’t need some embarrassing story like that. You got Snaxburg. Now that’s a story to tell the kids about how you met their mama. Though, I guess we can’t really talk about that to anybody.” He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying not to think about that place. He then realized why Gramble would be so enamored by the story. “Are you in love with Wiggle?”

Wambus expected some sort of stuttering mess of romantic feelings and an eventual admittance to it. But instead found Gramble suddenly droop in his seat before weakly answering.

“I don’t know. I love her… but I don’t think I deserve to be in love with her, Wambus.” He then gritted his teeth and exploded loudly. “What was I thinking? I can’t make her happy! I can’t be honest with her! I don’t have the right to… be the kind of person who… loves her that way. Maybe she’s better off with other grumps. She’s probably happier with Triffany right now than I could ever manage to make her.”

Wambus sighed. He was wondering when that was going to come up.

* * *

11:40pm – Side A

“You’re worried about Gramble, aren’t you?” Triffany asked, propping herself up on her side, watching Wiggle stare up vacantly at the ceiling.

The two of them were spent, and while a full night of fun would have been wonderful, the body craved rest, with sleep soon to follow. They had no intention of turning in just yet though.

Wiggle was glad that the suite was empty, fearful that Gramble might have stayed in alone. Luckily, when they arrived, the suite was empty, allowing the girls to finish their dance – thanks to the help of a do not disturb sign hung outside the door. A quick shared shower and a tuck into bed gave them a comfortable setting for a little girl talk.

“That obvious, huh?” Wiggle sighed.

“As clear as day. I’m guessing you regret what just happened.”

“Yes. No. Probably not in the way you think.” She stared over at the dresser, looking at one of Gramble’s spare hats.

“Surprise me,” Triffany pressed.

Wiggle sighed, repositioning herself to look at her guest.

“Gramble wanted to know what I thought about you, and I was honest. Didn’t think my little cinnamon roll would actually give the okay. I think he means well enough, but…” She trailed off, pausing for a moment. “I think there’s things about our relationship that he doesn’t understand, and instead of trying to communicate them, he bottles them up. I know that I’m a sexual being, and that he’s not. He’s an affectionate guy, but not on that level, and that’s okay. Besides, I’m not with him for sex. I’m with him because he’s Gramble, and there’s only one Gramble out there.”

Triffany listened on, laying her head down on the pillow to give her arm a chance to rest.

“There’s something going on with him, Triff. I get that he doesn’t like talking about his past, but it feels like whatever happened to him just makes him quiet as a church mouse when we talk about one another. I don’t know how to bring it up either. I love him, Triffany, but I’m afraid we won’t be able to to be IN love if he can’t open up. But I don’t want to force him to talk about these things that make him uncomfortable either.”

Wiggle closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. Her chest suddenly felt a little lighter.

“Sorry. I guess I haven’t had the chance to talk to anyone about this, especially Gramble.” She tried to smile to show Triffany she was alright. “This has been nice though. The whole night, I mean. I know I’m worried about Gramble and all, but it was nice to let loose and get wild. I’ve been… pent up, both upstairs and downstairs.”

She chuckled, sounding both serious and a little worried. Triffany nodded and replied.

“Do you remember the first time with him?”

“Oh, darling, of course I do,” Wiggle beamed. “In fact, he was the one to come on to me. It was awkward, but I didn’t mind. One of the few times he really opened up to me too. He felt like it was something he had to do in a relationship, until we talked about it. After that, we tried not to press the subject. I’d come on to him, but if he didn’t want to, then that was it. I can even think of a time when he came on to me, but I passed out as soon as we got to bed.”

She laughed out loud.

“But to be honest, when we do have time alone like that, it feels really special. There, it’s not about how it’s done or finishing the race or anything. It just feels nice to be with him physically like that.”

“Sounds like love to me,” Triffany said. “I mean, it sounds like you two care about each other a lot. Does Gramble enjoy it?”

“He does. He says he does anyways, and I know he’s being honest. But you know what he loves more? Cuddling. Oh, by the legendary divas grace, that boy is a cuddler.”

Triffany chuckled. She definitely saw Gramble as the type to latch on and not let go.

“More than that, honestly,” Wiggle added.

“What do you mean?”

She was about to answer before she noticed the clock on Triffany’s nightstand.

“Is it that late?” Wiggle exclaimed. “Honey, I got a busy day ahead of myself tomorrow. I have to meet with the dancers and band first thing in the morning.”

Triffany looked over her shoulder at the clock. It was almost midnight. As soon as she noticed the time, she became instantly aware of how tired her body was. On top of exploring the festival, her and Wiggle gave each other quite the work out. Sleep sounded nice.

“I guess we lost track of the time,” she said, sitting up. “I should probably head back to my room.” She was about to get out of bed when Wiggle grabbed her arm.

“Stay the night, Triff. The boys’ll be fine. Besides, Gramble’s not the only one who likes a good cuddle. I’m so used to my short-stuff, I think I’d forgotten what it was like to cuddle up next to a tall gal like yourself.”

Triffany didn’t get much choice in the manner. Wiggle basically forced her back into bed, though the green grumpus didn’t seem to mind. In fact, there was something nice about feeling someone else’s warmth for a bit. Though, she had to admit, Wambus’ fur felt much better. But then again, she was still head over heels for the man.

“I wonder how the boys are doing anyways,” Triffany pondered, feeling Wiggle’s body curl up against her back.

* * *

9:48pm – Side B

“What if I’m doing everything wrong?” Grambled muttered.

As the seconds ticked by, Wambus was watching Gramble become even more of a nervous mess than usual. It was more than obvious that he had deep feelings for Wiggle but was thinking way too hard about being in a relationship. It wasn’t the kind of thing that Wambus had all the answers to.

“Gramble, can I give you some friendly advice, grump to grump?” He waited for Gramble to give him a nod before continuing. “Nobody knows what they’re doing in a relationship. You both have to set the rules as you go along. You gotta talk things out. Communicate, you know? Triffany and I are always talking things out between us, and if there’s something we’re not sure about, we figure it out together. If you’re so worried, maybe you should talk to Wiggle about it.”

Wambus hoped that was the right thing to say. He knew communication was the touchstone of any relationship, and tried to pass along that wisdom to Gramble, even though he hoped that the little wreck knew that to begin with.

Gramble didn’t need to be told.

“I know,” he replied as he tried to calm himself down, “but it’s complicated. There’s so much I want to tell her, but when I think about it, I freeze up. When I was youngin’…” he stopped himself, feeling like he was about to stop breathing. “I just want to be in love with her because I love her. Is that so much to ask?”

He was raising his voice. He had curled his paws into fists and was beginning to shake.

Wambus watched as the little fluffball shook. He recognized that sort of rage from back on the island. If there was one emotion that Gramble had trouble controlling, it was his anger.

“Gramble, calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” he snapped. “I got a right to be angry! I got a right to be angry at myself! What am I supposed to do? I’m not sure if I’m doing anything the proper way. I just want to get this right! Why can’t I get this right!?”

“Gramble, please…”

“If I was just better and thought through these things more clearly. Can’t stand going on tour with her, can’t stand being alone in that mansion, can’t even stand to look at myself in the mirror.”

“GRAMBLE!”

Wambus’ voice echoed in the room. It kicked Gramble’s fight or flight mechanism and he immediately went on guard. The two had a bit of standoff, if one could call it that, before they both took a moment to breath and calm down.

Wambus scratched the fur under his straw hat and sighed.

“You gotta stop beating yourself up, partner. It’s not good for you or Wiggle. Whatever you got going on, you’ll make it through somehow, but you have to talk about it, Gramble. You can’t just bottle everything up and hope things work out. Believe me, it just makes things worse.”

He thought about a few of the angry fights he and Triffany had in the past, and how much could have been avoided if they had been honest with one another.

“No couple is perfect,” he added.

They both grew silent, absorbing the atmosphere as their blood pressure down. The credits from the movie had begun to flash by on the TV, as old swing music played over the crew cards. The blinds were open, revealing the city lights outside the hotel, with a clear sky overhead. If it weren’t for all the light pollution, they might have been able to make out the stars.

Wambus tried to think of something to say before the mood turned even worse. He felt a lump fall against his arm. He looked down to find Gramble leaning against him, with his paws folded tightly in his lap.

“I’m scared, Wambus. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

They took in another few seconds of atmosphere before Wambus surprised Gramble by putting his arm around his around his shoulder and bringing him in closer.

“It’s what I said, Gramble: Nobody knows what they’re doing in a relationship.”

Gramble fidgeted at first, but relaxed into Wambus, feeling the warmth from his body. He nuzzled in and just tried to enjoy the moment.

* * *


	5. Windswept through Slow Dreams

* * *

**Day Four – Part One **

5:55am

Even for Gramble being an early bird, rustling awake _that_ early was pushing it. He could have enjoyed another good hour or two, given the opportunity. He was content, comfortable, and had no intention of moving away from his pillow. He tightened his grip around the firm frame of…

Wait. Wiggle wasn’t firm. She was lanky with only just a hint of toughness to her.

His foot felt loose too, which meant he hadn’t tied himself to the bed post. Not just that, but he had fallen asleep leaning against something.

His eyes hadn’t completely adjusted to the still dim room around him. The sun was just barely coming over the horizon. The TV came into vision first.

_That’s right. We watched a movie._

And slowly the events of the previous day began to piece themselves back together.

Wiggle and Triffany were off doing whatever it was they decided to do with their time together. DJ BigThing or Middlemuck or whatever his name was had scared Gramble before the short grumpus started spending the evening with Wambus.

That’s right. It was Wambus. That was who he was curled up against last night, and whose snoring Gramble had become aware of. It wasn’t bad, but it was noticeable. He was surprised he was even able to sleep so close to the source.

His mind finally caught up with the present, and he became intimately aware of Wambus’ body: his checkered shirt, the heaving of his chest as he took in another deep breath, how his head drooped back over the couch with his hat over his face, the feeling of his arm draped on the back of Gramble’s neck. And his fur…

His fur.

Gramble shot up, freeing himself of Wambus’ grasp, nervously falling over and hitting the floor. He rubbed the sore spot on his head, before checking to make sure he hadn’t awakened the giant.

“Good, still asleep,” he whispered as he began to crawl toward the door. Slowly, he unlocked it, and slid out of the suite into the hallway.

He took in a giant breath of air, happy to be in the overly lit corridor.

His head was aflutter with nonsense and he was eager to hurry back to his own suite. Within moments, he was already unlocking the door. He stepped in, locked the entrance, fell against the door, and dropped to the floor.

The suite was still dark. Wiggle wasn’t up yet. Nor Triffany.

She was there. He could feel it.

Worse, the bedroom door was still open. He thought it’d be closed. Someone probably heard him coming in. What if they were still asleep and he accidentally woke them. What if they weren’t and he was interrupting. What if…?

*knock knock*

He nearly jumped out of his fur. His mind already a mess, he instinctively jumped up, unlocked and opened the door.

“Shhhhh!” he said nervously to the grumpus on the other side. “They’re asleep!”

“She is… I’m not.”

That was Triffany’s voice he heard as the bedroom door closed behind him. Gramble swung around and began to sweat bullets. What had he done? What had he done!?

“Floofty!” she suddenly exclaimed.

“Floofty?” Gramble repeated. He then realized he hadn’t checked to see who was even at the front door. “Floofty.”

A purple grumpus with curly locks looked down at him from behind thick black frames. They gave him a disapproving glare before inviting themselves inside.

“Gramble,” Floofty greeted, adjusting their bowtie. “Wasting away the day, I see. I expect that from you, but Triffany, do you know the time? It’s past six!”

Gramble closed the front door and watched Floofty approach Triffany, who yawned out into the darkness. She trotted over to the kitchen and turned on the light.

“Oh, come now, Floofty. You know us old grumps need our rest. It wouldn’t kill you to sleep in now again yourself,” she chided them lightheartedly.

“I’ll have you know,” Floofty began, “that I can function perfectly on three hours of sleep, and find that my most active hours are at around 4am, and what in the world are you wearing?”

What was she wearing, indeed? Gramble bit the bottom of his lip, realizing that while missing her vest but still wearing her hat, Triffany was rocking Wiggle’s star-shaped sunglasses. This was the first time he had _ever_ seen anyone else wear them.

“Don’t you like them?” she asked Floofty.

“They are garish and an annoyance.”

Triffany laughed. “Well, I think they look great on me. What about you, Gramble? Compared to Wiggle, what do you think?” She playfully struck a dance pose, enjoying herself.

Gramble didn’t feel so good.

“I think I’m gonna lay down,” he groaned, jumping onto the couch, face planted firmly onto the cushions.

Floofty watched from the corner of their eyes and grumbled, “pathetic.” They then turned their attention to the kitchen. “Coffee?” They noticed the coffee maker on the counter and pointed their paw toward it.

* * *

7:10am

Filbo was discharged from the hospital. As he was being wheeled out, a girl about his age with patterned pigtails smiled at him and waved. It was the perfect way to start the day.

* * *

7:22am

“Hey, everyone!” Filbo exclaimed as the suite door had begun to open. “Guess who’s out of the hospital and feeling great?” He then noticed Floofty, who had opened the door for him and Buddy. “Oh, hiya Floofty! We weren’t expecting you!”

“My classes have been cancelled the rest of the week,” they explained.

“Extended vacation! Nice!”

“No, it just turns out one of my students didn’t understand what the meaning of inflammable was. I have no trouble teaching in a fire damaged classroom, but the board thought it be best for me to take the rest of the week off. So, no, Filbo. It is not a vacation. It’s just that I’m being punished for someone else’s vapidness.”

Filbo stood there frozen with an awkward smile on his face before adding, “Good to have you here!”

Buddy passed Floofty, showing them a medical bill from the hospital. Floofty examined it and let out a stilted laugh.

“Next time, just come to me,” they whispered. “I could have fixed him faster and cheaper, albeit perhaps not as cleanly.”

Buddy chuckled before they flicked one of Floofty’s curls and made their way to the coffee maker. Floofty then returned to the window looking over the city, staring down intently at the street for something.

“Soooooooo, what did we miss?” Filbo asked as he got some hot water for tea.

“Nothing much,” Triffany replied from the kitchen table, trying to act innocent.

Gramble muffled something from the couch cushions that was best left inaudible.

There was an odd awkwardness in the air that two of the observers couldn’t quite put their finger on. Filbo seemed perfectly oblivious, just happy to be in the company of friends after a day of retching and a night of receiving fluids from an IV.

“Yes, I’ve been feeling it too,” Floofty whispered to Buddy as the journalist tried to read the room. Their attention darted back and forth between Triffany and Gramble.

Buddy nodded that something was indeed amiss. Considering how awkward the group seemed before he took Filbo to the hospital, something even stranger must have happened the following night.

“Most peculiar, but I assumed something was amiss when Gramble walk into this suite,” Floofty explained to Buddy. “I saw him come out of another suite and assumed it was his, but it turns out this is he and Wiggle’s. And since you and Filbo were at the hospital all night, that would mean he came out of Wambus’ and Triffany’s. So, tell me, why was Triffany already in this suite, especially since she had just got of bed. Most perplexing.”

Floofty thought hard about it, trying to put the pieces together.

Buddy, with all the information handed to them, had figured it out, doing their best to stifle a laugh. With all the information Floofty just dumped, it wasn’t difficult to put two and two together. The icing on the cake were the sunglasses Triffany continued to wear.

So, instead of worrying about it further, Buddy intended to see how it played out. This felt too big to force their way into, and Beffica wasn’t there to act as their accomplice. Still, the drama that would unfold would be interesting, to say the least.

They watched Floofty rub their temple, trying to piece it together. Buddy then wondered what Floofty and Snorpy’s parents must have been like if their children were so blissfully unaware of interpersonal connections.

Coffee tasted terrible that morning.

* * *

9:42am

By that point, Wambus would have eventually found his way to whatever suite they all were hanging out in, plus Wiggle had to meet the event planners in less than twenty minutes. Neither had made an appearance.

Gramble eventually pried himself off the couch and went into the bedroom to wake the sleeping diva, while Triffany excused herself to get her husband.

The other three were left in the living room.

“Hey, Buddy? Floofty? Does something feel weird about Gramble and Triffany?”

Floofty raised their mug to Filbo. “Congratulations! You finally crossed the finish line.”

* * *

9:43am – Side A

“You look like you had yourself a rough night, darling,” Wiggle said as she rummaged through her sunglasses. Diamond design felt like the one for that day. “When did you turn in?”

Gramble sat on the edge of the bed, moving his legs back and forth, looking down at the ground. About four different sentences were getting lodged in his throat, and he was just waiting to see which one would come out first.

“I hope you and Wambus didn’t spend all night arguing,” she joked as she turned around to watch him. She was already nervous seeing Gramble that morning. How was she supposed to approach this?

Gramble opened his mouth to say something, but it came out as a cough, betraying his own expectations for some sort of grand conversation starter. He looked over at the clock on the dresser. Wiggle would need to leave soon to meet with the event planners. He didn’t have much time to say his feelings.

_*snap snap*_

Wiggle snapped her paw in front of him, trying to wake him from his daydream. She wondered if he was about to start sleep walking.

_Maybe he really didn’t get that much sleep._

She too looked over at the clock and grumbled about the time.

“W…Wiggle…”

“Yes, love?” she quickly responded. But to no avail, he clammed up again.

A few more minutes passed as she continued to get ready, until eventually, she couldn’t wait for him anymore.

“I slept with Triffany, Gramble,” she blurted out.

This was followed by a gasp from behind the closed bedroom door, and an “Oh my grump!” from Filbo. Wiggle immediately swung the door open (causing the eavesdropping Filbo and Buddy to fall into the room), screamed “SWEETS, YOU GOT TEN SECONDS!” at them and watched as the two grumps sprinted out. Floofty remained close to the door, staying far enough to avoid injury.

“Well!?” Wiggle snapped angrily.

Floofty only gave her a passing glancing, stirring some cream into their coffee.

“I’ll leave when I’m finished with my coffee,” they informed her.

The coffee, the cup, and the cream were the first things she threw out of the suite, before Floofty followed them, being chucked with enough force to hit the door opposite their suite.

Wiggle turned from the front door to see Gramble lingering under the bedroom doorframe. She rushed over to him, embracing him, sliding his cap back and giving him a kiss on the forehead.

“Why don’t you come with me?” she asked. “We can talk about it on the way. I’m sure you have a lot of questions. You must be pretty mad at me too, huh?”

She expected a little silent treatment, knowing how hard it was for him to really express himself. Instead, she was surprised by an honest question.

“Did you… did you have fun?” he squeaked.

It threw Wiggle off her guard. She wasn’t expecting him to be so frank, and at first wasn’t sure if he was serious or not. But Gramble was honest. She never thought him a person to lie.

She looked into his baby blue eyes and could see a combination of confusion and worry.

“I… did,” she admitted, her pitch nearly matching Gramble’s squeak. “Did you want to know more? Like, how the evening went, or what we did… wait! I mean, you don’t need to know what we did, unless you do? What am I saying?”

“It’s okay, Wiggle,” Gramble cut her off. “It’s okay. I’m not mad. I’m just… worried.”

“About us?”

That felt like the most obvious answer, but Gramble shook his head.

“About me.”

The boy did a great job at tripping her up that morning. She wasn’t expecting any of that. What did that even mean? She was about to ask, but the time…

“You should get going,” he then said. “You shouldn’t be late.”

She desperately wanted to argue that, and throw the meeting out the window, but she signed the contract, and having broken a few of those in her past, knew she had no choice – especially if she wanted to afford that addition to the backyard.

She leaned down and gave him a kiss on the lips, hugging him close for a moment before letting go.

“I have lunch off!” she said, backing away toward the door. “We’ll talk then. You and me! We’ll talk about whatever is on your mind. We’ll talk all about you. I promise, darling, there isn’t anything wrong with you. I love you.”

And then she was gone. She meant those last words.

“I know,” he sighed. “I know you do.”

If he had to put his feelings into a word, it would be “insignificant.”

* * *

9:43am – Side B

Wambus shut the door as his wife walked in, looking a little concerned.

“Hiya, Triffy. You okay?” he asked.

“Are you?” she countered with a sudden ferocity. “You didn’t show up this morning, and we were starting to get worried. Did something happen with Gramble last night? Were you two fighting again?”

She expected a simple answer to explain Gramble’s behavior. Instead...

“Nope,” Wambus answered as he took a sip of coffee, not fazed by the rapid-fire questioning. “We had an okay evening, except for DJ whoever stalking Gramble. Was he upset about something morning?”

Triffany paused, looking around the room for anything out of place. She was desperate for a reason to explain Gramble.

“Why didn’t you find us this morning?” she asked. “Wait, stalking!? Did he do anything to him?”

Wambus shook his head.

“Nah. I shooed him away. No harm done beside getting under our fur. And this morning; I just wanted to be alone for a bit. Needed a cup of coffee to myself, you know? I was actually going to finish this off and hunt you down. You didn’t need to worry about me, Triffy.”

“Oh, okay,” she confirmed, nodding her head.

For a moment, the two stood in total silence as Triffany continued to piece together the awkwardness in her head. As if Wambus’ sipping was some sort of missing piece of the puzzle, she came to a conclusion.

She took in a deep breath, and quickly lost her cool.

“I messed up, I messed up, oh sweet honey iced tea, I messed up,” she repeated, trying to get her thoughts into place. “Gramble hates me now. I just know it. I know I messed up, and now Gramble hates me, and I shouldn’t have done anything, and I messed up, and…”

“Triffany, calm down,” Wambus said as he grabbed her shoulders. “Hotel carpet is expensive. Let’s try not to tear it up, okay?”

Not the most uplifting thing from her husband, but then she looked down and found she had put all her weight into the carpet, causing noticeable grooves to appear in a circular pattern. When the girl paced, she really knew how to pace.

She nervously took in a few more breaths as she tried to calm herself down.

“Gramble hates me now, doesn’t he?” she finally asked.

Wambus looked back at the door, almost as if to see the pink grumpus there. Instead, he turned back to his wife and shrugged.

“Boy didn’t seem like he hated you last night,” he explained. “If anything, I’d say he had more of an issue with himself.”

“Good gracious, I did that, didn’t I?” she gasped.

“No, Triffany, you didn’t. I think this is more of a Gramble thing, not a Triffany thing, though I think your escapades last night probably didn’t help with that. By the way, how was Wiggle in bed?”

“Wambus!”

“Just playing with you,” he chuckled, before getting a swift punch in the arm from his wife. “Honestly, Triffany, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. If the issue _was_ with you, wouldn’t he have told you this morning?”

“Well…”

She explained how he cloistered up and spent the majority of the morning face down on the couch, only speaking in muffles. The only reason she was there was because she was worried about Wambus.

“What about you?” she inquired. “Are you mad at me?”

He gave her sardonic half grin.

“Now why would I be mad at you? Should I have a reason to be? Wiggle ain’t the first girl to sweep you off into bed. Alright, it’s been over a decade since the last time anything like this happened, but you knew what was gonna happen going in, right?”

“I thought I did, but…” she paused for a second and blushed hard. “It was really good, Wambus. Really good. Like, felt like I was twenty years younger good.”

The room was quiet as feelings processed. It was an embarrassing thing to admit, especially since she couldn’t remember the last she complimented Wambus in bed. When was that anyways? He probably didn’t like hearing that.

And then Wambus burst out laughing.

“Well, dang girl. Who knew? Guess I should ask her for a few tips, huh?”

He wasn’t mad. He really wasn’t mad. It left Triffany speechless and utterly confused.

“So, that’s it then? You’re not mad, or worried, or anything like that?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Nah. I didn’t spend the morning with you all because I wanted some alone time... also to finish this movie we started last night. I didn’t really pay attention toward the end since he and I were talking. Really Triffy, should I be worried about something? You and Wiggle gonna elope?”

“No. No! Nonono,” she fired rapidly, sputtering out the last parts. She paused, realizing how silly she must have sounded, and let a relieved laugh. “Then nobody is mad at me?”

“I don’t think so,” Wambus guessed, pouring what was left in coffee maker into his mug. “I mean, outside of having what must have been incredible sex with a thirty-something that both your husband and Wiggle’s boyfriend gave both of you permission to do, what is there to be mad about? Heck, if anything Gramble and I are the ones who dug own graves, right?”

He laughed it off as though it was no big deal.

Triffany wanted to do the same, but she still felt a little guilty. Without knowing what was going through Gramble’s head, she couldn’t be sure everything was really “alright”. She walked over to her husband and leaned her head against his chest.

He put his arm around her, rubbing her back with one hand as he sipped on coffee with another.

“Sooooo,” he trailed. “What discoveries did you find while cave diving last night?”

Triffany looked right up, annoyed and ready to punch him in the arm again.

“She was better than you, you know,” she quipped vengefully.

“Sure, but you can’t deny I know how to dig.”

She tried to get angry at him, but his smile got to her, and she started to laugh.

“You’re giving me gray fur,” she joked, feeling a little bit of stress lift off her chest.

“I think it looks beautiful on ya,” he replied, putting the coffee down and completing the hug.

She then punched him in the arm again.

* * *

10:13am

_*knock knock*_

Wambus opened the front door. Gramble was there, looking exhausted, and holding a book.

“Triffany,” he muttered.

She sprang up from the couch, her body going fully on edge. She noticed what was in his arms and recognized it immediately.

“Ummm… Wiggle called. She wanted you to bring the sketchbook down with the routines. She uh… asked for you specifically.”

Triffany cleared her throat and looked at Wambus. His expression nearly matched hers.

“Why don’t you take it down there instead, Gramble?” Triffany suggested. “I’m not feeling too good right now, and it would probably be better if you did.”

He shook his head.

“She said you were the only one who know about this thing you were helping her with,” he explained. “She wouldn’t give me the details.”

The song. He didn’t know about it. Triffany was the only one who knew the finer details, including the routines and dance numbers. That stupid song was what got her into that mess to begin with. Again, she looked to Wambus for help, but he was without a plan.

Hurried, she began to think of any excuse at all not to go.

“I’m not mad at you,” Gramble finally said.

It hit Triffany harder than she expected, knocking the wind out of her sails. She froze up with his line of vision aimed directly at her, full sincerity in his voice. She didn’t know what to say.

Gramble then put the book on the table and excused himself from the suite, leaving the door open as he did.

Triffany remained frozen, unsure of what just happened. He said it, and that was it. It couldn’t have been that simple, could it? He still looked sad and tired, but his voice was clear in that moment.

Wambus watched his wife’s face go through a gamut of emotions, and knew he needed to say something. He was just as guilty in this as the rest of them were.

“I’ll go talk with him,” he said, rushing to give Triffany a kiss before heading toward the hallway. “You do your thing, and I’ll handle mine!”

When she was left to herself, she took a moment to try and clear her head, before grabbing the book and heading out of the room, locking it on the way out.

* * *

12:02pm

Triffany stood in front of the storage room she and Wiggle had been using for the past few days. It almost felt like their own personal club house – made her feel young again. They let their imaginations run rampant, dancing, singing, and forgetting about all the cares of the world.

Thoughts like that weren’t needed right then. She had come to drop off the sketchbook with the routines drawn inside, maybe watch for a bit, and then head back and figure out if Gramble meant what he did.

“Snap out of it, Lottablog,” she scolded herself. “Gramble said it, so he must mean it. Right? You don’t think he’d just lie to you like that? Right?”

_What if he was trying to make you feel better at the expense of his own feelings?_

She growled at herself, listening to her own thoughts try and betray her. Now wasn’t the time. She was given a task, and she aimed to do it. It should be as simple as one, two, three.

She brought her paw up, and readied to knock on the door.

“…ewon…”

Her head twisted toward the direction of it. It sounded like it had whispered into her ear. A high-pitched voice that sent a shiver down her spine. It didn’t even last a second.

She turned and fearfully looked around the busy stadium corridor: Stagehands and performers were going back and forth, carrying equipment and tote bags, yelling into their mics or going about their day. Dancers conversed and practiced minor routines for their sets that night. An organizer blew up balloons and handed them off to another as they attached it to a stage archway.

Triffany closed her eyes and breathed. It wouldn’t have been the first time stress had played tricks on her. She returned to the door and knocked three times. She barely finished with the last knock before the door flung open.

Wiggle embraced her, fur a mess all over.

“Girl, get in here, we’re really in it now!”

All Triffany wanted to do was drop off the book and be on her way. She ended up getting roped in for the whole day.

* * *

1:30pm – Side A

Triffany made the call to her suite, and informed Wambus that she and Wiggle couldn’t make it to lunch. One of the dancers sprained their ankle, and now they needed to find a replacement at the last second.

“I love you too,” she said on the other end of the phone. “I’ll call you if we can’t make dinner either… no, we can send someone to get something… I know I sound out of breath… I know… I know… take care of everyone tonight, okay? I’ll talk to you soon… bye.”

She hung up the phone, feeling a bit bad for A). her and Wiggle having to cancel lunch at the last second, B). leaving Wambus with Gramble (who may or may not be harboring deep seething emotions at that moment) all day, and C). not telling her husband that she had volunteered to be the replacement onstage dancer.

“Where do I stand?” Triffany asked Wiggle as she threw off her vest and hat.

* * *

5:01pm – Side A

Triffany called again. She had to cancel dinner plans. After the conversation, she hung up the phone and chatted with the dancers and Wiggle on what dinner they wanted delivered to them.

* * *

7:52pm – Side A

The dancers were sent away for the night. Wiggle felt confident they got the choreography for the first song down. The second one needed work though.

Triffany opened up the sketchbook and started taking notes.

* * *

10:51pm – Side A

Flat on her back, Wiggle looked up at the ceiling, collecting her thoughts as she panted heavily from the exhaustive workout from practice. Her body was aching, she was out of breath, and she could barely keep her thoughts focused. Still, she tried to keep the mood light.

“If I had to compare tonight and last night, I’d still say you were the winner,” she said jovially. “At least when I was wiped out then I had a princess there to cuddle up with.”

Triffany turned her head to get a better look at her friend. She smiled, seeing Wiggle look sideways and upside down as she too laid flat on back, though stretched out the other way, but with their heads close to each other.

“Just a princess? Why not a queen?” she asked.

“Because I am THE queeeeeeeeeen, darling!” Wiggle sung out before coughing. Her voice was beginning to sound raspy.

“Try not to talk too much,” Triffany advised. “You’ve sung ‘Do the Wiggle’ and ‘Ode to Gramble’ so many times tonight.”

Wiggle grumbled something about the “story of her life” and continued to cool down. She and Triffany hadn’t even started on the third song yet.

“You sure you don’t want any dancers for that one?”

“It’s an acoustic solo, girl. Sure, I could incorporate backflips into it…”

“…let’s not and say we did!” Triffany said, feeling her back shiver just thinking about the way some of those dancers moved.

She had no idea why she agreed to takeover in the first place. It meant some of the entire routines needed to be rewritten. It was a wonder they weren’t more exhausted after having to overhaul the dance.

“Would have been nice if they provided you another backup,” Triffany sighed.

“It would have been,” Wiggle said, sitting up. “But then what would I do with you?”

“Not use your friend who’s turning another year closer to death next month in an onstage dance routine?”

“You volunteered,” Wiggle reminded her, bopping her nose.

Triffany sat up, rubbing it and smirking.

“Nobody said I was thinking soundly,” she countered. “Especially not today, and ESPECIALLY not this week.”

They paused their conversation for a moment to reflect. Even with all the dancing, and singing, and planning, they still had the previous night lingering in the back of their minds.

“You regret it?” Wiggle asked. “Last night, I mean.”

“What? No! No,” Triffany exclaimed before trailing a bit. “I had a lot of fun, and it was nice to be spontaneous. At this point in our relationship, Wambus and I don’t do a very good job being spontaneous with our love making. We’re passionate, but not that spontaneous anymore. We always talk about it, but… you know how it feels at the end of the day and you’re too tired to do anything.”

Wiggle nodded and replied, “I can imagine.” She looked at herself in the reflection of the room’s wall length mirror, before returning to Triffany. “I wonder if Gramble and I will have that kind of relationship. The kind where you love each other so much, and you know each other so well that the day to day feels boring, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world…”

Unconsciously, she had brought her legs up to her chest as the little pink grumpus entered her thoughts.

“I don’t think he’s mad about last night,” she continued. “I know he has trouble with his emotions, but he’s not the kind to lie about them. He’s honest to tell you when he doesn’t like something or wants to change the subject. I love him for that. But still…”

Her gaze fell to the floor as the thought of his smiling face changed to fear and anxiety.

“…I don’t feel like I know him, Triffany. I love him, but I don’t know him. He never talks about his past, or much of himself for that matter. He’s always living in the present, and I love that, but I want to know Gramble, like you know Wambus. But I don’t want to force it out of him. I try to drop hints here and there, but he keeps changing the subject.”

Wiggle sighed and closed her eyes, thinking of old conversations while on tour, or while they were moving him into the mansion, or just little moments of idle conversation between the two of them. What felt like nothing at first began to pile and pile, until there was a mountain of doubt associated with this grumpus named Gramble Gigglefunny.

She opened her eyes when she felt Triffany’s bring her close, laying her head on her shoulder. The two sat in silence for a moment before interlocking paws and laying back down. Triffany moved as close to Wiggle as she could get, keeping her touch gentle and reassuring.

Wiggle wiped some water out of her eyes.

“I already complained about this to you yesterday, didn’t I? Just won’t leave my head.” She paused and sniffled. “This girl is lonely, Triffany. This queen feels like her heart is breaking. Do you think… do you think Gramble doesn’t trust me?”

Triffany thought about it, thinking about everything she knew about Gramble, from his mood that morning back to the time they first met on Snaxtooth. She had so many things she could say to Wiggle about him – her personally feelings, what their relationship felt like to her, and any advice she could give after spending almost half her life with Wambus. But all of that would just be making it about her, and it wasn’t about her: it was about them.

“You know I can’t answer that Wiggle,” she replied, tightening her grip.

“I know. I guess I’m just looking for an easy answer.”

All in all, she knew that at some point, she would have to confront Gramble about it. She wanted to know him, if only a little bit, and if only over time. She had learned to be patient the past year, between her music and her relationship with him. They could confront it together and grow closer from it.

It wasn’t much, but it gave a slight surge of optimism she was looking for; something to look forward to.

She looked at Triffany: looking worried, cuddling up, trying to pass good vibes over to Wiggle. An odd sense of admiration for her swept over the orange grumpus. It was a strange sensation that clouded her mind with the color green and beauty she hadn’t seen on a woman in too long. She instinctively gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“What was that for?” Triffany asked, as her grip was loosened from a rising Wiggle.

The popstar shrugged and answered.

“I just think you’re something else. A real beauty.” She watched Triffany smile and look away shyly. “You know, if Gramble is my lyrics, maybe you could end up being my voice. Maybe.”

At first, Triffany took it as a compliment, chuckling at the campiness of it. Was that her flirting outside of what they had already experienced?

It had Triffany’s heart skip.

“You trying to get me flustered, Wiggle?” she asked as she rose to her feet. “Because you’re doing a bang-up job of it.”

“Reeeeeally?” Wiggle pushed. “That’s funny actually.”

“How so?”

“It took me a lot longer to rile up Gramble. All it took for you was a day. I still got it!”

Triffany lowered her eyebrows and frowned.

“You’re as bad as Wambus, I swear.”

“Just you wait, darling,” Wiggle went on, strutting toward the door. “I’ll get that man of yours wrapped around my little paw in less than an hour. Trust me.”

Triffany wanted to say something but decided that Wambus could take care of himself.

She thought their practice together would have help her mood, and in some way it did. But something else still lingered inside of her.

_Gramble doesn’t hate you, Triffany._

No. He doesn’t. But it wasn’t about Gramble. She thought about everything that had been happening all that week. The events, the topics, and the group. And suddenly, she felt so little.

She looked around the room, feeling haunted.

“You okay, Triff?” Wiggle asked, noticing a change in her mood.

“I’m fine,” she lied.

She was looking at her reflection in the mirror. It stared back with disapproval as if to say, “This isn’t your new life. You don’t get to abandon the old one.”

* * *

11:11pm – Side A

The two made a quick stop at the hotel restaurant for an end of the day nightcap, toasting to a successful rehearsal. The two chatted with the bartender (who was a big fan of Wiggle’s), who regaled them with stories about things he had seen while working at the bar.

“Gramble is your boyfriend right?” he asked Wiggle.

“The love of my life!” she sung, still feeling some worry with what she and Triffany had talked about back in the storage room.

“He’s the little pink guy with the strawberry cap, right?”

That was too specific. She never talked about what Gramble looked like to the press, and she was sure no media got a successful photo of him.

“How do you know that?” she asked.

“He was here tonight,” he alerted them. “He was dancing on stage with some big blue grumpus in a straw hat.”

Wait.

“Dancing on stage!? In front of people?” she gasped.

“With my Wambus!?” Triffany followed with equally shocked gasp.

He nodded before getting pulled away by another customer.

* * *

11:33pm – Side A

They downed the rest of their drinks, paid the tab, and eagerly made their way back upstairs. The elevator couldn’t be slower. They needed to know the details – all of them.

Triffany fumbled with the suite key as she tried to get it in the lock. She dropped them first, snatching them back up as soon as she could.

The girls were excited. This was something. This was unheard of. This was Wambus opening the door when he heard the commotion outside.

“Well, don’t you two look like you’ve been rolling around on the ground,” he joked.

Triffany pointed the key at him threateningly.

“That’s the last one, mister,” she said to him in a menacing tone. “No more of those jokes… well, maybe a few more, but I get to punch you in the arm again for each one.”

“Deal,” he said holding out his paw, which she playfully shook. Wiggle nearly lost it watching the lovebirds joke and play around so casually. “You two do look beat though.”

“We’ve been rehearsing for nearly 12-hours, hun,” Triffany reminded him.

“I get that for Wiggle, but not you,” Wambus added.

The girls looked at each other. He didn’t need to know. Triffany wanted to make it a surprise.

“It’s complicated,” she answered before clearing her throat. He just shrugged it off. “Now, we heard from the grapevine…”

“Is that the girls?”

Gramble’s voice reached across the room into the hallway.

“Darling!” Wiggle exclaimed. “I have got to ask you all the details about tonight. It simply cannot wait!”

Wambus gave them a quizzical expression, wondering if they knew something he didn’t. They knew plenty, and with what they knew was plenty to demand a late night story about two grumps dancing at…

“Wiggle! Triffany! I need to ask you something!” Gramble yelled as he appeared, standing between the girls and Wambus.

“In due time, darling,” Wiggle replied. “Let’s go inside first. My dogs are killing me. I need to sit down for a spell.”

“It… it took me a long time to… muster the courage, but…”

“I could use a hot shower myself,” Triffany sighed. Wambus took a sniff of her and nodded. “I know, I know. Like from my digs, right?”

“…I know that… this is going to seem weird for me to ask…”

“We’ve both smelled worse, Triffy,” Wambus reminded her. “Anyways…” he then pointed down to Gramble who was still going on.

“…what I mean to ask is… and that’s if you’ll let me, Triffany. Oh, and you too Wiggle…”

“Wambus,” Wiggle began toward the farmer, “you have not witnessed a true stink until you have done a live charity event in a public station studio with no air conditioning. That is a miiiiighty stink!”

“…and I don’t want to hurt either of your feelings, so if you say no… I’m sorry for even asking then, but I just… if you could… I…”

“Now Wiggle,” Triffany suddenly jumped in, “I’ve been on a dig in triple digit Fahrenheit weather, in the middle of nowhere, during a dust storm. You would not imagine how awful that was.”

“…I just think… since you two… I thought… if… maybe…”

“Just talking about it makes me feel horrid, girl,” Wiggle continued. “Now you got me begging for a shower. How about we do that and come back so we can learn from the boys about…”

**_“Can I spend the night with Wambus?”_ **

The moment those words escaped Gramble’s mouth, it was like time froze. The three above him froze in their positions: Wambus leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed and a knowing smile, Wiggle with an exhausted expression and ready for some much-needed tender loving care, and Triffany nearly making a game out of comparing past instances of poor hygiene.

Gramble, however, looked down at the ground, waiting for time to catch back up.

“Darling… did you just…?”

“Wambus, did you know he was going to ask that?”

Gramble kept staring down. He didn’t hear Wambus say anything, and just assumed the grumpus nodded his head. There wasn’t much else to say.

They heard Gramble loud and clear. All he could do now was wait for an answer.

* * *


	6. You Found My Breaking Point and I Am Trying to Let You Know It

* * *

** Day Four – Part Two **

1:30pm – Side B

Wambus hung up the phone and leaned against the kitchen counter. His paw met his face and slid it down, revealing an annoyed grumpus.

“Guess what?” he said to the group.

“Again?” Gramble complained, looking down at his feet.

“Again,” Wambus sighed. “Let’s get some lunch.”

* * *

1:41pm – Side B

They found their way downstairs and explored some of the food vendors, making sure to avoid any seafood this time. The five of them agreed on splitting a pizza. Surprisingly, there was a vegan pizzeria set up with the rest of the vendors.

Wambus, Filbo, Buddy, and Floofty didn’t have much to say about it. For them, it was just alright. Filling, but only alright. Gramble loved it.

“It would have been better with Wiggle though,” he whispered to himself. Again, Wambus was the only one who heard him. He was starting to get annoyed over the whole situation.

He wondered how practice was going for the girls.

* * *

2:04pm – Side B

Without much else to go on, the group decided to go check out the festival theme in the stadium: The Future of Electronica. There was a surprising amount of art-deco and pop colors all over the place. It gave Wambus a headache.

They walked around, separating when something caught their eye, while joining back up when they intersected with the crowd again. Every time they did, Filbo and Buddy would come back with more souvenirs, as well as an ever bored and unimpressed Floofty.

“What hypothesis are you basing these assumptions on?” Floofty asked one of the presenters. The discussion would end in a rage filled grumpus ready to attack the smarmy, purple, walking smirk. This ended up bring a regular thing for Floofty until security eventually had to politely escort them out.

“Unhand me!” Floofty exclaimed to the security guard, as the crowd around them stared. “I’ve eaten grumps more intimidating than you.”

Not the most pleasant of exchanges. All the while, only Buddy chased after them. Filbo blended into the crowd, eventually joining up with Wambus and Gramble.

All in all, more interesting than the previous days themes.

* * *

3:10pm – Side B

“I’m gonna get a drink of water,” Gramble announced as he peeled away from the duo. He used his backstage pass to escape the crowds and found a water fountain not too far from the doors. After having a swig, he took a moment to collect himself.

His friends had done their best to make the most of the day. He knew he was giving off a mood and couldn’t shake himself free of it. But the group were patient with him and gave him the space he needed to think and try to figure things out.

Everyone knew what happened, fascinated with the drama, but dreading the outcome. No one wanted to bring it up, but Gramble could tell they wanted to. Most of all, Wambus.

Wambus.

“He seems so calm about the whole thing too,” Gramble said to himself, leaning against the wall next to the water fountain. “I’ve got all sorts of shakes and shivers, and he just… tried to keep me level-headed. Lot of good that did.”

Of course, he wasn’t aware that at that very moment, Wambus was complaining nonstop to Filbo about the past week. Poor Filbo just nervously nodded as a passing crowd gave them side glances.

At first, Gramble blamed Wambus for last night. He had been too relaxed about the whole thing. Gramble wasn’t expecting that. He was expecting confrontation, and anger, and blame all around. That’s how it was in the movies.

But through it all, Wambus kept composed, save for the yelling to calm Gramble down.

_No couple is perfect._

“You and Triffany seem dang near it,” Gramble sighed.

Then again, were they truly a perfect couple if one of them was off with someone else’s girlfriend? Maybe that’s how they got their kicks. Maybe there was a side of Wambus and Triffany that Gramble and Wiggle were unaware of. If there was, then Gramble needed to save Wiggle.

Maybe that was why he ended up in front of storage room 14; his fist up ready to bang on the door.

It was the perfect scenario: rush in and sweep Wiggle off her feet and whisk her away from all the terrible things from this dungeon. There was a wizard and a witch trying to tear them apart, as well as a dragon that stole things from Wiggle for its own nefarious plot. And the curse around them: the hideous curse of loud, violent noise. So much so that he couldn’t hear himself think.

It was so loud he wanted to scream. He was going to scream. He’ll scream a magic spell and destroy all the bad things. All the bad people. All the bad thoughts.

There were voices above him, asking things he didn’t understand, in a muffled language he could only just barely make out. The monsters had come for him.

He knelt down on the ground, remembering that he wasn’t some knight in shining armor. He wasn’t some grand hero out to save the kingdom. He wasn’t an important character in this story. He didn’t even think he was an important character in his own story.

Gramble’s vision started to turn hazy. He was frozen solid, on the ground, paws on his head, curled up in a ball. What was going on around him? He couldn’t make anything out. It was too loud and bright.

Suddenly, his body was off the ground, and the wind was flying across his body. Familiar voices could be heard, angrily arguing at one another, telling one of them to “shut it.” It felt so dizzying. Gramble did the only thing his head told him too, and cling to the piece of fabric that was holding on to him.

* * *

3:33pm – Side B

“Ah! A sudden episode of fear and disorientation, caused by acute exposure to stressful influences, causing the brain to trigger a fight or flight mentality, usually followed by symptoms up to, but not including: dyspnea, palpitations, hyperventilation, paresthesia, depersonalization, and derealization.”

Wambus growled and gave Floofty a stink eye.

They sighed.

“A panic attack.”

Buddy rolled their eyes. All Floofty was doing was making the mood worse. They had only made it back to Wambus and Triffany’s suite a few seconds earlier, couldn’t Floofty have waited at least a whole minute before going off?

Apparently not.

“Well, thank you for the gold nugget description,” Wambus snarled, “but we already done knew what it was. My question is, how do we help him?”

“You don’t,” Floofty shrugged. “Much of a panic attack is on the onus of the patient. We can make them comfortable, but in the end, they will be the one to come out of it. I personally would like to observe him further and record his reactions.” They looked back to Buddy. “Could you fetch me a butcher’s knife and a monster mask?”

Wambus growled angrily at the ceiling, his paws almost shaking.

“Remove them before I onus them with their leg!” he shouted to Buddy.

“You didn’t use the word correctly,” Floofty replied with a grin. It quickly disappeared as their prosthetic leg was snatched out from under them and held up violently by Wambus. “You look like a neanderthal,” they added, adjusting their glasses. “Fitting.”

Things would have turned worse if Filbo hadn’t stepped between them.

“That’s enough you two! I’ll take that!”

Filbo jumped up and grabbed the leg from Wambus, passing it off to Buddy who was busy scolding Floofty for stirring the pot.

“Now,” Filbo continued, “how about we all calm down and try to think about what’s best for Gramble right now, eh?”

Wambus breathed so hard through his nose, one would think steam was coming out of it. His scowl only added to the effect.

Floofty was about to make another quip, but was silenced by Buddy, who put their paw over the scientist’s mouth, slung them over their back, and quickly escaped the suite.

“Good idea, Buddy,” Filbo said with a grin. “Let’s give Gramble some time to relax. I’ll check up on you guys in an hour. Take care!” He followed the other two out, closing the door behind him.

Wambus stood still, trying to collect his own thoughts. Once he was calmer and felt like he was able to make proper decisions again, he walked over to the couch, and sat down next to Gramble, still curled up like a ball.

“Take your time,” Wambus sighed. “Take your time.”

He was still very annoyed, but kept it buried for the time being.

“You gave us a bit of a fright there,” he continued, trying to keep his mood in check. “You go off and get yourself some water and then don’t come back. Can’t find you, and then some people were talking about some grumpus had collapsed. Ran off to the hubbub, and there you were. Don’t know how many people knew who you were, but I thought it probably wouldn’t do Wiggle any favors, so I scooped you up.”

He thought about his words for a moment, realizing that it sounded like he was blaming Gramble for any bad press Wiggle might get. It wasn’t completely off the mark, but the last thing he should have been doing was putting blame on an already fragile grumpus.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to insinuate you having a panic attack would hurt Wiggle’s career.”

Did he even need to say that? Now he wasn’t sure he should be opening his mouth at all. He added a swift “sorry” and shut his trap. All he could do then was wait. After a few minutes, he stood up.

“Just, uh… tell me if you need anything.”

He walked over to the kitchen and picked up the phone, dialing the number for the storage room that Triffany had given him. No answer. They couldn’t hear anything over the sound of the music.

* * *

5:01pm – Side B

Triffany called to cancel dinner plans. When they hung up, Wambus walked out onto the balcony, closed the door, and cursed loudly, and repeatedly into the open air.

Buddy, in the suite two balconies down, admitted that they had never heard such profanity before in their life.

* * *

6:15pm – Side B

Gramble didn’t know why he suggested it. He only remembered sitting up from the couch, hazy and out of funk. He had fallen in and out of sleep, taking in sporadic and restless blank dreams filled with nothing but voice and sound. When he finally pulled himself up, Wambus was across the couch, watching TV.

“You okay, partner?” he asked, watching Gramble sit up.

Both their earlier moods had subsided.

“Can we go out?” Gramble asked. “I’m hungry.”

So was Wambus.

They collected the other three and headed down to the hotel restaurant. Wambus had remembered that the atmosphere was more laid back than the rest of the festival and was happy to walk into soft jazz. The restaurant owners had decided to ditch the themes after finding the festival staff couldn’t stand to look at anything relating to the festival after their shifts.

It was appreciated.

* * *

6:49pm – Side B

Piano and sax echoed through the restaurant, mingling with soft murmurs and laughter from the other customers. The atmosphere was far more relaxed and lowkey than the festival lights and its bombastic music.

Gramble leaned back in his chair and tried to absorb it all. He allowed his mind to go blank and take it in. For as quiet and still since he had woken up, his head was still rapid with worry and anxiety.

The music was nice at least.

He looked around the table, surrounded by friends and acquaintances.

Filbo and Buddy were off in their own world, chatting about the set for that night, excited to see it, wondering what new bands and artists they would discover. Floofty had added their two cents on the subject, sipping on a gin and tonic gingerly, looking around the room when they had nothing else to say, and observing everyone and everything to an uncomfortable degree.

Wambus, having finished a small sirloin, placed his knife and fork down and wiped his mouth.

“You haven’t eaten much,” he said to Gramble, pointing down to a barely touched portobello burger.

Grambus looked at his food. It sounded better when he read it on the menu, and in truth, it was delicious. The food in the restaurant far outshined the festival vendors. Alas, for as juicy and tender as it was, he just wasn’t feeling it.

“I guess I wasn’t as hungry as I thought,” he sighed, pushing the plate away from him.

Wambus watched before looking around for a waiter to flag down.

“Can we get a to-go box for that?”

The band on stage finished their set and thanked the audience for the evening. The group applauded, save for Floofty, who only gave them a nod.

* * *

7:21pm – Side B

“You two gonna be heading off soon?” Wambus asked Filbo and Buddy.

Buddy looked down at their wristwatch and nodded to Wambus.

“You sure you don’t want to come with us?” Filbo asked, leaning forward. “I’m sure it’s gonna be a lot of fun! Remember how much fun we had the first night?”

Wambus frowned.

“As I recall, you and Buddy were the ones makin’ fools of yourselves that night. All the rest of us were too focused on a dumb DJ stealing Wiggle’s voice, remember? That’s what happened, right?” He looked down to Gramble for help. “Sample or something or another?”

Gramble nodded weakly, before thinking about Middlemuck and sticking his tongue out in disgust. He then looked toward Floofty.

“What about you? You gonna come back to the suite or go with them?”

Floofty didn’t answer traditionally. They simply grunted, sipped on the same gin and tonic, and focused in on another subject in the restaurant.

Wambus leaned in and whispered, “You know you can’t ask them Fizzlebeans any obvious questions. You gotta ask them in a way where it sounds smarter than it is.” He added a chuckle at the end.

“I heard that,” Floofty grunted. “I am not my brother. I am perfectly aware of my surroundings…”

Meanwhile, someone setting up the stage for the next band tripped and fell headfirst off the stage, hitting a freshly lit omelet surprise, igniting the fur on their head as they ran screaming to the kitchen, while the bartender chased after them with a fire extinguisher.

“…I simply choose to ignore what doesn’t interest me.”

The group exchanged glances and moved their chairs away from Floofty.

“Anyways…” Wambus started back, whispering down to Gramble. “…how are you feeling right now? Want to head back to the suite?”

Gramble thought about it, but knew that if he did, he probably plop on the couch again and mope without confronting the worry in his head. He shook his head and watched as the next set came on stage.

“How’s everyone doing tonight!?” the lead guitarist asked into the mic.

Most of the patrons mumbled, being festival organizers, volunteers, and workers who had only just got off work. The mood, while relaxing, was also very exhausted.

“Well, we’re uhh… hey, guys? What are we right now?”

“Demi-Baguette Sloop-Da-Doop,” the drummer said as she sighed and sat down. “We’re employed by the hotel. We’re just the jazz band from earlier with different wigs.”

“Way to ruin the illusion,” the bass guitarist sighed. “Anyways, how about some requests? We’re playing folk and acoustic right now. Our lead singer is out with the flu tonight too, so if you want vocals, you’re gonna need to provide them yourself.”

“We’re pretty sure he’s faking it,” the drummer snickered.

None of the audience knew if the banter was part of the show. Most ignored it and allowed them to start playing.

Filbo and Buddy watched them play, saying they were leaving after this song, bopping their heads along to the slightly faster than expected beat of the drums. Floofty, of course, was still lost in their own world of observation and research.

Wambus listened, stealing glances at Gramble to watch his mood.

The pink grumpus himself had begun to slink down in his chair. The atmosphere wasn’t helping anymore. He was beginning to get dour again, thoughts now compounded with how he had embarrassed himself earlier with his panic attack.

“Wambus?” he whispered.

“Hm?”

“Would you be mad if I said I hate you?”

It knocked the wind out of Wambus’ sails. He wasn’t sure how to take that. But seeing the worried look on Gramble’s face made him skeptical.

“Do you really hate me?”

Gramble paused.

“Not really, no,” he sighed. “I don’t hate you, or Triffany. I think I’m just trying to make myself feel better. I know a lot of what I’m feeling is my fault, but I don’t know how to handle it right now. Like… I don’t know. What’s wrong with me?”

Wambus shrugged and replied.

“That’s a pretty tall order of a question there, Gramble. How would I know? I’m not you. I can understand why you’re feeling the way you are right now. But, uh… I don’t know what to say if you don’t open up, you know? Maybe it’s not your fault. Maybe you’re only thinking it is because you don’t want to talk about it?”

Wambus thought about the previous night and crossed his arm.

“Like last night. We talked about relationships then, and you didn’t do too bad there.”

Gramble looked down at his paws and sighed.

“But that was more about me AND Wiggle. When it’s just about me, it’s… hard. I already act like a mess. No need for people to see what kind of mess I am up here.” He tapped the side of his head twice.

“I don’t know, Gramble,” Wambus countered. “I think it’s good to put yourself out there every now and then. You have to be vulnerable _sometimes_. Keeping that fence up all the time is tiring.”

Gramble didn’t reply. He wasn’t sure how to.

The song on stage trailed off and the audience applauded. No nod from Floofty this time though; a true mark of shame. Filbo and Buddy rolled their eyes and stood up, ready to head to that night’s festival set.

The band addressed the crowd.

“Thank you! Thank you! Do we have any requests?”

“Got one right here!”

All eyes focused on the blue furred grumpus who had stood up with his hand raised.

“The cowboy at table six!”

“Farmer,” Wambus corrected them.

He left the table and walked up stage, muttering something to the band, who nodded and began to ready their instruments. Wambus then approached the microphone.

“Folks, bear with me. I’m going to do two songs, I’m an awful singer, and I don’t like being on stage, but it’s my vacation, and I thought it’d do me some good to just, I don’t know… put myself out there.”

He looked down at Gramble, who wasn’t sure if he should be embarrassed or interested.

Filbo and Buddy immediately sat back down. This they had to see.

The band started off with a swift strumming of the guitar, while the drummer matched the rhythm. The bass guitarist jumped over to the piano, and moved along, striking sparce keys to add to the folksy element.

It did little to add to Wambus’ crowing. He was right; he was awful. Not so awful it caused feedback on the mic, but still enough to get a few snickers from the crowd. Filbo gritted his teeth and hissed in some air, Buddy closed their eyes and groaned at the noise, while Floofty shook their head repeatedly. An utter disgrace.

Wambus tried to clear his throat and continue, watching the crowd’s expressions as he continued to embarrass himself. He knew the lyrics clearly but was no good as controlling the pitch of his voice.

Gramble couldn’t understand it. Wambus was making himself a laughingstock. Why would he subject himself to such ridicule?

During a solo, the pianist jumped over to the sax and began to play. Wambus looked back at the band, tapping his foot to the rhythm, his smile widening as he did.

“I told you so, folks,” he said into the mic, relishing every single moment as the solo came to an end and the band chuckled at him. “Hey, you three aren’t done yet. Let’s get that next song going.”

The guitar began to strum again, an electronic echo following with each pluck of the strings as Wambus continued to sing.

Something had begun to happen as he sung the second song. The ridicule and laughter calmed, and grumps around the restaurant began to enjoy it. Buddy smirked, and Filbo bopped along to the music. Even Floofty went neutral to the whole thing.

Gramble looked around and didn’t get it. Everyone was laughing at him before, but now they were going along with him? What was happening?

He looked back to Wambus and saw it.

His face was filled with immeasurable joy.

Wambus had finished the last lyric and was just dancing around, badly, but enjoying himself. He didn’t care what others thought of him, and why should he? He was never going to see these grumps again, and he was perfectly comfortable around his friends at that point in their relationship. He exuded a kind of confidence that was infectious in the most bizarre way. His poor singing skills gave way to a looser and more relaxed environment.

Even the band played along, extending the ending rift as the guitar went full electric, the bass pounded deep in the background, and the drummer put her all into the notes. They jumped around to different instruments and added them to the mix, turning the room from relaxing, to confident, and finally, to triumphant.

“You coming?”

It felt instinctual. Without even realizing it, Gramble had taken Wambus’ paw and was up the stage dancing badly and just forgetting everything. He definitely felt the embarrassment and fear, but it didn’t stop him. It wasn’t just him making himself an embarrassment.

Wambus was there, arguably worse both in song and dance, with Filbo and Buddy eventually joining in on stage and going to town. Floofty didn’t join, but the ruckus was enough for them to focus their full attention on stage.

It felt like the song could just keep going and going, and none of them would care. It made them feel ecstatic. The entire restaurant felt it, having their laughs, but also egging them on. Whether it was enjoyment out of ridicule, or the actual excitement that they were giving off was anyone’s guess. All the four dancing on stage knew was that it felt good.

If misery loved company, then shared embarrassment must have been one hell of a party.

Eventually, the song had to end.

Tired, wiped, and surprised at themselves, the band gave the dancers and Wambus a round of applause, while the restaurant did the same. The four stepped off the stage as the band chatted about things, checking to see who was next. A girl with pigtails volunteered herself, no longer feeling like they would be the worst sounding grumpus in the room.

“That was a blast!” Filbo said, panting as he sat back down at the table. “I had no idea you had it in you, Wambus!”

“I know how to surprise sometimes,” Wambus replied, looking to the other two, and receiving approving nods from the both of them, though Floofty’s was more an acknowledgment of having the guts to do something like that, not his skills at the mic.

“What about you?” Wambus asked Gramble.

He felt like he didn’t need to ask. The wide smile said it all.

But just as the short grumpus was about to give a definitive answer, his smile faded as his eyes focused on someone approaching. Wambus watched his focus narrow on it.

A single applause sounded.

“That was certainly something. I guess first impressions aren’t everything after all.”

The table looked over at the approaching figure. Nobody was happy to see him.

Middlemuck stopped, looking at Wambus with a grin on his face.

“When I saw you yesterday,” he continued, “I assumed you were just some brute. Here you are busting a move and bearing your all in the middle of a crowd. I gotta say, I’m generally impressed.”

Nobody said a word. Nobody wanted to. Maybe if they didn’t say anything, he’d just go away. Sadly, for them, that was not the case.

* * *

7:44pm – Side B

“You all can sit there and ignore me all you want, but I’m not going away.”

None of them were actually ignoring him – they were just on guard. Though, one would think a full minute of silence would be enough for Middlemuck to get the picture, but he just stood at the end of the table, smiling at all of them.

Gramble looked away, trying to pretend he was somewhere else. Wambus would give him a slight glance before checking on everyone. Filbo and Buddy looked at Middlemuck, as if to say something, but too afraid of what Wambus might do to them. Floofty… well. Floofty was doing Floofty things.

Somebody had to say something.

“Soooo… how’s the festival treating you?” Filbo asked. Wambus looked at him with daggers, but the conversation was out in the open now.

“It’s going well,” Middlemuck said as he sat at an empty seat. “Been pretty difficult getting away from the reporters though. Always asking questions about what’s next and who I’m going to collab with on the next album, and what I think of my supposed beef with Wiggle Wigglebottom.”

“You know exactly what your beef with my Wiggle is!” Gramble interrupted, loudly.

“Calm down, Gramble,” Filbo said with a nervous grin.

“I don’t want to calm down! He stole Wiggle’s voice, and that made her upset. Wiggle didn’t do anything wrong! He’s the one who started it!”

He was making a commotion. People were starting to stare. A few started to recognize Middlemuck. This conversation needed to be cut short.

Wambus looked over his shoulder and waved a waiter down.

“Check please! Put it on Wiggle Wigglebottom’s tab!”

Middlemuck could sense they were getting ready for a clean getaway and made his move.

“I won’t argue I used a sample without her permission. I already promised her I wasn’t going to play that song at any live events. I’m sorry if that’s not enough for you. Where is Wiggle anyways?”

“Practicing,” Gramble snapped, jumping out of the chair and getting ready to make a beeline for the door. “Shouldn’t you be doing the same thing?”

“I should. Thanks for looking out for me. I only wanted to ask where she was because I was worried about you. I just had this feeling that something was wrong and wanted to see if I was right.”

“You weren’t,” Wambus said as he stood up. “Let’s go everyone.”

“Oh fun!” Middlemuck continued. “Where are we going?”

“WE are going back upstairs,” Wambus added, pointing to himself and Gramble. He then pointed to Filbo and Buddy. “THEY are going to tonight’s set. And they…” He then pointed to Floofty.

“…are very suspicious of this one,” Floofty finished for him, eyeing Middlemuck. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

The DJ extended his paw and introduced himself.

“Middlemuck Gooseriddler AKA DJ BigThing.”

Floofty refused his greeting, and instead, sniffed the air around him.

“Ah. You’re the disc jockey that’s been giving Wiggle a hard time. It’s not a difficult feat mind you, but it is rather concerning that you come out of nowhere like this and accost Gramble so swiftly.”

“Accost? I don’t even know the meaning of the word,” Middlemuck laughed with a hearty burst. “I’m not trying to hurt Wiggle or Gramble or anything. I’m just curious. Isn’t that right…?”

He turned back to Wambus and Gramble, but they had already fled the restaurant.

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” he sighed. “Oh well. It can’t be helped. What do you…?”

“Your smell concerns me,” Floofty snapped before standing and walking away. “You have the ghastly scent of bacon – which I can’t stand – and some other thing that’s sickly and familiar. Something that triggers my fight or flight mechanism. While I ponder this, I must say, before I leave, that I do not like you. Good day.” With that, they walked onstage, and disappeared behind the curtains, much to the bewilderment of the band.

Middlemuck sniffed under his armpit and shrugged when nothing seemed off about his odor.

“Hmmm… how about you… two?”

Filbo and Buddy had made a break for it through the kitchen door, though Middlemuck could clearly see Filbo through the circular window on the door, who waved at him before escaping.

Middlemuck shook his head.

“Nobody said it was going to be easy.”

* * *

7:52pm – Side B

Gramble collapsed onto the carpeted floor of the hallway, trying to catch his breath. Wambus stood over him, breathing heavily through his nose as he leaned against the wall. They had both sprinted away from the restaurant, opting to use the stairs when the elevator wasn’t ready at a button’s press.

Six flights. It was certainly a climb.

“I hope that sirloin doesn’t come back to haunt me,” Wambus groaned, feeling his stomach do flipflops.

Gramble then realized, “I left my food downstairs. I really wanted to finish that later too.”

“We’ll get you another one,” Wambus panted. “For now, let’s just get inside and away from that guy.”

That sounded like a stellar plan to Gramble. The more distance he could put between him and Middlemuck, the better.

“How about another movie tonight?” Wambus suggested. “Maybe we can watch one that you’d enjoy more, huh?”

That sounded like an even better plan. Gramble was still recovering from earlier and had no intention of being around anyone else whom he didn’t already know. He growled at the fact that he was feeling so good about himself after getting on stage with Wambus too, and that all turned to mush the moment Middlemuck appeared.

“Wambus?”

Wambus looked down at Gramble as he was unlocking the door to the suite.

“I don’t remember why I went on stage with you, or how it felt, to be honest. Didn’t get a lot of time to relish the feeling.” He fiddled with his paws before shaking himself of worry and meeting the farmer’s gaze. “But thanks.”

Wambus smiled and nodded.

“No problem there. Thought it might help. Didn’t expect Filbo and Buddy to join us though. Come on, let’s check to see what’s playing on pay-per-view.”

The answer was not much. Only a few movies had changed compared to the previous evening, and nothing tickled either of their fancies. So, movie night ended up a bust.

“We could always go out to a movie,” Wambus suggested.

That was shot down after Gramble remarked how Middlemuck was probably out there waiting to stalk them. True, he could have just as easily gone to the set to scope out the competition, but his commitment to stalking their group meant that he could be around any corner.

Just in case, Wambus and Gramble peaked out the door to see if he was in the hallway. Luckily, he wasn’t, but they didn’t want to take the chance. More so, Gramble was the one with doubts. Wambus was fine giving Middlemuck a piece of his mind. Unfortunately, it wasn’t just Wambus that would be in hot water if he did that.

“Let’s not give the press anything extra to write about,” Gramble said as he channel-surfed on the TV. He stopped on the evening news, noticing the festival was featured. Wiggle nor DJ BigThing were mentioned, so he was thankful for that.

Wambus hung out at the kitchen table looking through the room service menu.

“Boy gets under my skin in more than one way,” he replied. “What is his deal with you, anyways? I don’t see why he’s so obsessed… or do you think…?”

Both Wambus and Gramble thought about it for a moment. Did Middlemuck have love at first sight? Gramble shivered at the idea. That was going to haunt his dreams.

He shut off the TV and turned around, standing up on the couch so he could see over the back and get a better look at Wambus.

“What do you think the girls are up to?” he asked.

Wambus shrugged.

“Practicing, I reckon. Did you want to call them? The number to the storage room is on the kitchen counter.”

“No. I don’t want to interrupt them. Wiggle has her set tomorrow, so she’ll need all the practice she can get. I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t come back tonight.”

“Maybe…”

Wambus wondered about Triffany, hoping she was able to keep Wiggle focused on the set. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was looking forward to see Wiggle on stage, especially knowing his wife helped her with the choreography and planning. He couldn’t wait to be cheering Wiggle on, maybe in front of the audience, holding hands with Triffany, and maybe even having Gramble on his shoulders to see clearly.

“You excited for tomorrow night?” Wambus asked.

“Well, of course! I get excited every time she performs! Just because I don’t like all that loudness, doesn’t mean that I don’t like the performance.”

Wambus expected as much.

“You must be proud of her.”

“I am. Like you wouldn’t believe,” Gramble answered, elated. But then… “I wonder if she’s proud of me?”

Wambus heard that disparaging tone reappear and made his way over to the couch. “You worry about that a lot, don’t you?”

Gramble sat back down and leaned back, watching Wambus plop himself down, and shake the cushions.

“I try not to, but it’s really hard lately. Being alone in that house and…”

“…having trouble talking about yourself?” Wambus cut him off. “And also worrying about if you make her happy, and also maybe about whether or not you’re IN love with her…”

“Okay, OKAY!” Gramble repeated, annoyed. “You know my life’s story now. You don’t have to rub it in.”

“I’m not,” Wambus said, ruffling Gramble’s hat. “Maybe we’re all just worried about you, especially me.”

Of all grumps?

Gramble chuckled. “Why would you need to worry about me, anyways?”

Wambus blushed and grunted.

“I guess it just feels like some – maybe a lot – of this is Triffy and I’s fault. I’m worried that when we talked to us about this a few days back that we may have been a little too honest about things and…”

He trailed off into a grunt, crossing his arms, and adding “Sorry.”

The two allowed an awkwardness to fill the space between them.

“We’ve been saying ‘sorry’ an awful lot this week, haven’t we?” Gramble pondered out loud. “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not.”

Wambus huffed a laugh. “When I was a grumpling, my mama told me if you apologize too many times, you don’t really mean it. Then again, she left my daddy for another man when I was ten, so I don’t take a lot of what she said to heart. Shows what she knew, right?”

Gramble perked up, hearing some key words in Wambus’ voice.

“Your, mom? Do you… still chat with her?”

“Her? Nah. I don’t give that woman the time of day. She came to my wedding and that was the last time I ever saw her. Triffy and I still send holiday cards, and she knows our number, but never wants to call us. I tried to call her a few times over the years, but she didn’t want to pick up. After a while, I just gave up. No point in dwelling on something like that, right?”

No point in dwelling?

“I wish I was able to do that,” Gramble muttered.

Wambus looked down, interested.

“You have parents who were a mess too?”

“Hmmm?”

Gramble then realized he said something out loud that he thought he had kept to himself. His emotions immediately went into red alert.

“It’s nothing. Let’s talk about something else, okay?”

He shut down again, bringing his paws toward his chest, as if he was ready to defend himself from an attack. He expected the next moment to go one of two ways: Wambus would either push the subject, or the subject would awkwardly change. Either way, Gramble knew the fault would be his own. He waited for the inevitability of it.

He then realized his bubble was getting smaller. Something towering over him was getting closer.

Arms. Large blue arms enveloped Gramble, squeezing him and holding him tight. It caught him off guard, nearly having him jump in shock.

“Is, uh… is this alright?” Wambus asked in a worried tone. “I can stop, if you want me to.”

“N…no. I mean… it’s alright. I… um…”

Wambus was surprised to see how quickly Gramble grappled back. His little arms couldn’t reach all the way around Wambus’ frame, but it still felt all the same to him. He squeezed as tight as he could, knowing full well that Wambus could handle it, before nuzzling his cheek against his chest.

The world was going hazy again, but Gramble welcomed it this time. He searched desperately for a heartbeat, wanting to hear the rhythm. Sadly, the hug broke before he was able to. Disappointing, but not unexpected. Gramble knew he didn’t have the privilege to explore Wambus more.

But he could.

“How do you feel now?” Wambus asked. But instead of an answer…

“Wambus, do you trust me?”

He should have expected Gramble to ask something so obtuse. The boy had been harder to piece together than Floofty the past few days.

“Well, sure. I don’t see a reason not to. Is there a reason…?”

“I want to spend the night with you.”

The two looked at each other for a long period. A low flying plane flew overhead outside, breaking up the strange silence between them.

“Pardon?”

There was another long pause after that. Gramble tried to break his stare away and apologize for suggesting such a thing, but he couldn’t.

“I want to spend the night with you.”

“I heard that part. I’m just… processing it.”

Was this awkward? It didn’t feel awkward. It felt more like listening to another language, and only understanding some of the words. Wambus was trying to make sure he understood what Gramble was asking.

“By spend the night, you mean…?”

Gramble blinked. His words exploded.

“I want to spend the night with you and get to know you better and sleep with you but not in the way you think it means and I want to do it because I want to see more of you and Wiggle and Triffany already had their time together and I don’t see why I can’t have some time with you but only if you’ll let me and I hope you don’t hate me but if you do I’ll leave do you want me to leave maybe I should leave but would you want to spend the night with me or maybe…”

“Okay.”

Okay. That was it. Quick, honest, and without hesitation. Just a simple okay.

“Okay?” Gramble mimicked with a shaky voice.

“Okay.”

Gramble wasn’t expecting that. He wasn’t expecting that at all. Was it too late to back out? Was it too late to play it off as a joke and head back to his suite and scream into a pillow out of sheer embarrassment?

“Okay…” Gramble whispered.

He was going to do it. He was going to do it. HE WAS GOING TO IT! But why did he want to do it? Gramble froze when the thought crossed his mind. Why did he want to spend the night with Wambus? Did he just answer it in that long winded word vomit? Did Gramble even listen to himself?

“You have to be the one to ask Wiggle and Triffany though,” Wambus then added.

Gramble knew there was a catch. He absolutely could not muster any courage to try and…

“Okay.”

_GRAMBLE WHAT ARE YOU DOING?_

His head were screaming out, demanding an explanation. Why was it Wambus of all people, and how was he even going to ask Wiggle? Wiggle got to have her time with Triffany because Wiggle was more deserving of it… right? What was Gramble even thinking?

Deserving of it? Was did that even mean? What did anything this week mean!?

“Okay,” Wambus said, nodding to him. “We’ll wait for them to get back and we’ll go from there, okay?”

“Okay.”

Gramble shut all the screaming out of his head and closed his eyes. He needed to be alone in the darkness for a moment. He then felt the cushions shake again.

“I’m going to order room service. I feel like something sweet,” Wambus announced. “Do you want anything?”

Gramble took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. But when he opened his mouth, he had already begun sprinting to the bathroom. He pushed up the toilet lid and released the contents of his stomach.

Wambus didn’t react adversely from the noise in the other room. He expected it. Who knew how much stress Gramble was expelling right now? Just even requesting an evening with Wambus must have been difficult.

“Yeah, room service,” he spoke into the receiver, “could you bring me a hot fudge sundae? Also, something for an upset stomach?”

* * *


	7. A Cold Memory of You

* * *

** Day Five – Part One **

12:01am – Side A

The best way she could describe the feeling was like getting clotheslined by a professional wrestler: It knocked all the wind out of her and left her on her back in a daze. That was overdramatizing it though. When Gramble suddenly asked for permission to spend the night with Wambus, it left Wiggle speechless.

“You gonna be okay there, Wigs?” Triffany asked as she brought her a glass of water.

“Yeah,” Wiggle wheezed with a nod, sitting down at her suite’s kitchen table. “That was… something else. Not sure how I feel about it.”

Triffany sat next to her.

“Maybe you should have talked to him about it more?”

That would have been the smarter thing to do. Instead, Gramble’s request created a frozen stare and a raspy, “okay,” from Wiggle. No argument and no further inquiries. Both Triffany and Gramble made sure she was being sincere, but after the third “okay” they let it go.

Triffany gave her blessing on one condition.

“After tonight, and when Wiggle finishes her set, we all need to talk about this.”

Gramble had no problem agreeing, looking rather relieved that someone else wanted to confront the elephant in the hotel. He had lots of questions but needed time to muster the courage to even ask them. He disappeared out of view, nervously wishing them goodnight.

“Wiggle?”

The popstar had forgotten where she was. She had been too busy playing the scene over in her head.

“Huh? Oh, thanks, darling.” She took the water and swigged it down in a single gulp. She wished it was something stronger.

“You going to be okay?” Triffany followed, rubbing the popstar’s back.

Wiggle wasn’t sure. On one hand, she was more than happy to let Gramble figure himself out and hoped it would help strengthen their relationship. On the other hand, there were about three red alerts going off in her head, and they were very, very loud.

“Not sure,” she finally answered. “This has been a week, what with the set, and practice, a new song, Gramble, and adventures in swapping partners. A got a lot happening in here.” She pointed to her head.

“I can imagine,” Triffany added with a worried grin. She tried to think of something else to say, but nothing came to mind. Instead, she leaned in and gave Wiggle a half hug with one of her arms. “This has certainly been an… interesting week. But we’ll manage. We’ll talk it over and figure everything out.”

The urge to apologize profusely wouldn’t leave her thoughts as Triffany had begun to firmly believe that maybe her and Wambus had ruined Wiggle and Gramble’s relationship.

All for what? Fleeting moments of lust to cover up all the shortcomings back home?

“We should get to bed,” she said, standing from the table.

Wiggle nodded and sighed.

“It’s going to be a big day tomorrow, Triff,” she said as the two made their way to the bedroom. “Going to be a big couple of days.”

The two stripped down to nothing and crawled into bed, as if it had already become second nature. They had their backs to each other, leaving a large empty space between them. A few minutes into the darkness of the night, one of them finally spoke.

“Triff, darling?”

“Hm?”

“I’m nervous.”

Triffany heard her, nodding to herself.

“I am too.”

There was some shuffling of movement between them as the empty space filled. Wiggle felt an arm wrap around her and squeeze tight. She held it close to her heart and tried to sleep. Surprisingly, even with all of her mental dealings, her body was able to slip into a restful slumber.

Triffany, however, could not.

* * *

12:01am – Side B

Wambus sat on the end of the bed, watching the shadow under the doorway of the bathroom pace back and worth, muttering some incoherent babble. Gramble had been in there for the better part of half an hour, no doubt debating whether or not to actually go through with it.

Sans his cloths, Wambus waited, watching, knowing full well that Gramble would come out and call the whole thing off. He didn’t expect Gramble to be the type to jump him and show him a wild time of sweat and grind. Triffany was the lusty one in their relationship, and if what he deciphered was right, Wiggle was the same. But Gramble…

The door opened, and Gramble left the bathroom, still fully clothed, looking like he was more ready to turn off than turn on. His face said it all.

“Decided against it, huh?” Wambus said with a small grin. “No shame in it.” He stood up and collected his hat and checkered shirt from on top of the dressed. “How about you take the bed tonight and I’ll crash on the couch? Sound good?”

“Wait.”

Wambus stopped, looking back from the bedroom door.

“Come back.”

Gramble’s voice was shaky and nervous – more so than usual.

“Can you… sit down again?”

Wambus paused, trying to read the pink grumpus’ face. His face was telling him one thing, but his voice was echoing another. Wambus went along, dropping his cloths and hat back onto the dresser before returning to where he just got up from.

“Now what?” he asked.

Gramble slowly made his way over to the bed, hopping up, and taking his place next to Wambus. He didn’t look at him, finding more comfort in his own hands and dangling legs.

Wambus could have pushed it, but he let Gramble take his time. He obviously had a lot on his mind and didn’t want to make matters worse. Perhaps it would have been better if Wambus made that decision for the both of them? As he said, no shame in calling it off, no matter who did it.

“We, uh… don’t have to do this you know,” he told Gramble. “We can just relax and do anything else. We can play some cards, or go out and walk, or talk, or anything else. You don’t have to force yourself to do anything.”

“I’m not forcing myself,” Gramble immediately countered. “I want to do this. I just… I can’t hear myself think right now. Just give me a second.”

How to approach something like this, Gramble wondered. His head was giving him so many answers and then immediately following them up with twice as many questions. Eventually, he stopped answering any of them and tried to clear his head. This was done mostly in vain.

The mattress shook, knocking him out of his thoughts for a moment. He looked back and found Wambus on his back, arms spread out and looking up at the ceiling.

“Well, I’m right here when you’re ready to climb on,” he joked with a little smirk. “Just be gentle, okay?”

Comedy? In this situation? Gramble suddenly felt like smacking him, but quickly realized that Wambus was just trying to lighten the situation. Did it need to be?

Gramble chuckled. It seemed to work.

“You know,” Gramble started, “I don’t want to do any of that stuff to you. Actually, none of that ever crossed my mind. It’s nice, but not all that interesting.”

“What’s not interesting?” Wambus asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.

“You know,” Gramble replied. “Things like… um… sex. _That_ never interested me.”

The way he said the word sounded so forced. He had no extended difficulty saying the euphemisms and slang, but the actual word itself didn’t sit well with him. It sounded so sterile. Something that Wambus completely agreed with him on, even if he did like to make jokes about it.

“I’ve been with Wiggle a few times, and we had fun.” he continued. “I just…”

“…don’t find it interesting,” Wambus finished for him. “So then, what were you wanting to do?”

It was an honest question.

Slowly, and after exhaling a giant breath, Gramble positioned himself over Wambus, straddling his legs around his belly, looking down at him with a sky-blue plea.

“I just… want to explore,” he said as his quaking paws slowly came down onto Wambus’ chest. “I like to feel. Is that… alright?”

It was strange. For almost his entire life, Wambus connected the act of “exploring” or “touching” intrinsically to the act of sex. Sure, there were moments where cuddling, hand holding, and kissing felt better, but he couldn’t remember when those moments could add anything like a notch to the bed post.

But the way Gramble touched him felt different. It didn’t feel sexual. It had a different quality to it. And looking up at Gramble’s eyes, hoping to continue, Wambus gave him the answer he wanted.

“It’s alright, Gramble.”

Between Wambus and Triffany, touching and petting felt like a sprint. Playful missions to best the other, whether through wrestling, gasps of air, clutches of fur and thrust, or quakes on the edge. He didn’t expect this kind of touch to feel so… peaceful? Calming? Electric? It had a therapeutic quality to it.

He let Gramble slowly and easily explore his upper half, paws moving from his chest, to his neck, to his face. He laid still as his body was rubbed and felt. There was a moment, where the back of Gramble’s small paw brushed against his check. Wambus let out a quiet but twisted gasp, as his body began to demand reciprocation.

His paw ran up under Gramble’s sweater vest, starting from the belly, up to the chest. As if like magic, the sweater came off, exposing pink fur. He kept himself restrained, knowing his body wanted more than what was happening. Wambus dismissed his own libido and let his paws, as Gramble put it, explore.

He sat up, meeting Gramble in middle, getting a good look at him before embracing him into a tight hug, slipping off his strabby hat, and nuzzling his cheek into the fluff on his head.

Gramble yelped happily.

* * *

4:40am – Side A

Triffany couldn’t sleep. As much as she tried and tried, she kept fidgeting and tossing. There was no point staying in bed and risk waking Wiggle, so she eventually left the room and dropped herself at the kitchen table. At first, she sat there, just letting her body unwind in hopes it would help her relax, but when she realized her mind was in a state of panic, she gave up the notion of sleep.

Opening the blinds, she stood at the long window, looking down at the city lights and glamor. The sun would be rising soon, and with it a day of nonstop hectic practice and, finally, the performance. On one hand, she was excited for it, on the other, she wished she could call it off.

“Too late to back out now,” she told herself before heading back to the table and taking a seat.

She had a lot on her mind and couldn’t find a way to process it. It was times like that where she would reach out to Wambus, or more recently, Floofty, to bounce her thoughts off of. But Wambus was off doing his thing with Gramble, and while Floofty was more than likely awake, they were too aloof to track down.

“You’re certainly a mess, aren’t you Triffany Lottablog,” she said to the lights of the city.

“I don’t think so.”

Triffany looked toward the bedroom and found Wiggle at the doorway. It was still odd seeing her without any accessories, fully exposed in nothing but the fur she was born with.

“And before you ask,” Wiggle continued, “you didn’t wake me. I was using the bathroom when I noticed you weren’t in bed.” She sat next to Triffany. “What’s wrong, girl?”

With the set coming up soon, she was about to expose herself to thousands upon thousands of people on stage, showing off her dance moves, and hoping she didn’t embarrass herself in the process. It was terrifying, but also exhilarating.

“Nerves, I guess.”

“I’m nervous too,” Wiggle replied. “But is it just that?”

She saw right through Triffany, down to her very soul. Wiggle was an excellent judge of character.

“Why do you say that?” Triffany nervously asked.

Wiggle narrowed her glance, smiling as she did to further penetrate Triffany’s admittedly poor mental defenses.

Triffany wasn’t surprised. The four of them obviously had a lot on their minds, and everyone seemed to be more than aware of it.

Triffany smiled and leaned onto the table, folding her paws.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” she started.

“What?”

“All of this,” she waved to the city. “The city, this suite, this festival, the practices… this moment.” She looked at Wiggle. “I’ve been so scared that Wambus and I are ruining your relationship with Gramble…”

“…which you’re not.”

“…and worried that maybe things are going too fast between you and I…”

“…debatable.”

“…and thinking about everything back home…”

“What’s happening back home?”

“…that I don’t know how to feel about anything right now.”

She sighed and put her head down into her paws.

Wiggle pressed, “What’s happening back home?”

“Everything,” Triffany muffled. She didn’t say anything else after that, as if that simple answer was enough for not only Wiggle, but everyone around to understand her plight.

Predictably, it was not.

“What is everything, Triff?”

“It’s everything!” Triffany snapped, raising her voice and straightening up, giving Wiggle a flinch. “It’s what I’m doing, it’s what I’m not doing, it’s what I’m not getting. Ever since we came back from Snaktooth it’s been one problem after another. Wambus can’t get any long-term buyers for his sauce, the house is falling apart and we don’t have the funds to fix it, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t get a steady job! No matter how hard I keep putting myself out there, people look at me and just say ‘no.’”

She stood up and began to pace the room, shaking her fists.

“I’ve got a masters in Prehistoric and Early Civilization Grump History, and a bachelors in Anthropology! I have been all over the world, researching and uncovering things about the past that no one has any interest in. I speak three grumping languages, and that’s _STILL_ not enough. I can’t even get a job as a museum curator.”

She kicked the couch and continued to pace.

“Even if Wambus is having it tough, at least he has people at the farmer’s market who want sauce. Gramble’s a mess and a half, but he still makes hats and donates them to charity! And I know you’re still coming out of your one hit past, but you’ve already created a new gold hit, _AND_ this new song is no doubt going to be just as big if not bigger!”

Wiggle mentally filed the compliment.

“What do I have right now?” Triffany continued. “What do I have to go home to that’s my own?” She leaned against the back of the couch and shook her head. “I thought this vacation could take my mind off of things, but I’ve only made them worse, Wiggle. I thought… uh, nevermind…”

“No, no, darling!” Wiggle exclaimed, standing from the table. “I want to hear it.”

Triffany pursed her mouth and looked away, taking in sharp breaths through her nose. She thought she would start crying, but it had been years since the last time she did.

“I thought being someone else would help,” she answered honestly. “It feels so nice, Wiggle. It’s like I don’t have to be me. I get to be a young backup dancer who’s in a passionate affair with a popular popstar.”

Young. Wiggle chuckled. Their age difference was in the single digits, and Triffany was older.

“But I’m not that, Wiggle. I’m Triffany Lottablog. I’m an archaeologist who gets by here and there, only scraping by through odds and ends. Ever since we got back from that place, I’ve felt… cursed. Maybe I opened the wrong tomb or something.”

She looked up at Wiggle, standing in front of her.

“Wiggle? Am I okay?”

Wiggle paused, thinking about the question, before gently taking Triffany’s paws and looking her in the eyes.

“No, darling. I don’t think you are,” she answered as a small smile appeared, “and that’s okay. It’s okay not to feel okay. I don’t think any of us have been okay since we got back. I know I haven’t. Between touring, Gramble, writing, this festival… you, I don’t think I’ve ever been as not okay as I’ve ever been.” She sighed, turning to look out at the city. “But… all this time we’ve spent together has been so wonderful, darling. And not just you, but the boys and thems too. I was worried about how much of a mess this would all turn out, but to be honest, Triffany, it feels a little freeing. I know I’m not okay, but, I get to be not okay with people who aren’t okay either. Misery loves company, remember?”

She laughed softly, giving the two of them a moment before closing the gap and giving Triffany a kiss. She pulled back to a blushing and slightly taken aback grumpus.

“I don’t know what’s going on between you, me, Gramble and Wambus,” Wiggle continued, “but whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. For now, if you’ll let me, I’d like to spend what little time there is between us together. Even If all we’re doing is just practicing for the set. Is that alright, Triff?”

Triffany squeezed Wiggle’s paws as hard as she could. She sniffled, gulping a lump in her throat that was trying to force itself out as something embarrassing or regretful. She leaned in and placed her head against Wiggle.

“I… would like that, Wigs,” she rasped, feeling a sense of relief and selfishness wash over her that battled out for dominance. She let them fight.

Her soul was exhausted. She wanted to run away for a little bit longer, if only for one more day. It was all the two of them would be allowed until they would have to confront it all head on. But one day felt like enough.

They made their way back to the bedroom and allowed their worry to disappear into a moment of lust. Neither would get back to sleep.

* * *

4:29am – Side B

_I’m laying down in a field of fur, covered in soft warmth, looking up into the blue sky as the wind passes over me. I don’t want to leave, but I don’t want to stay either. If I stay too long, they’ll start asking why I’m here. I don’t want them to know why I’m here. I really want to stay. I want to keep feeling this **safety** and **comfort**. They’ll ask me why I’m here._

_Don’t tell them why. Whatever you do, don’t tell them._

_I don’t want them to know I don’t deserve to be here._

**“Why did you go there?”**

_I wanted a family… I wanted a family that actually cared about me._

**“But you knew it would be dangerous.”**

_I wanted a family… I wanted a family that actually cared about me._

**“Would you have stayed if you knew they were parasites?”**

_I wanted a family… I wanted a family that actually cared about me._

**“But you abandoned the girls. You abandoned your little ones. You abandoned those you call family.”**

_I wanted a family… I wanted a family that actually cared about me._

**“Is that what families do?”**

_I wanted a family… I wanted a family that actually cared about me._

**“They abandon each other?”**

_Yes._

_All families do is abandon each other._

~~You were never any good.~~

Gramble pushed away the figure as hard as he could, yelling at it to “go away” and he “doesn’t want to see her.” It called back to him, its voice like claws on a chalkboard. His heart was pounding like a jackhammer as he did his best to crawl away from the dark figure.

But the vision refused to relent, trying to call out to him in a distorted and demeaning tone. All this happened while the other figure watched from afar. That one gave a more threatening aura, endangering everything in world.

Gramble pointed at it, trying to scream, but nothing came out. The shadow in front of him rushed to meet the other, giving Gramble the time he needed to escape.

He dashed through the storm clouds, narrowly avoiding lightening, pushing open a wall of ice before entering a long, twisted corridor. It felt like rubber at his feet, making him trip a few times. But he regained his balance.

Sadly, it wouldn’t amount to anything. He hadn’t even been through the corridor for more than a few seconds before getting grappled from behind.

It called out his name.

Gramble struggled.

It called out again.

“Gramble!”

He… recognized it.

“Gramble, wake up!”

He recognized the touch.

“It’s just me! Wake up!”

It didn’t try and hurt him. It was keeping him still. It was keeping him from going into the inferno that had formed in front of him. The fire tried to attack him. Gramble closed his eyes and waited for the heat to envelope him.

But there was no fire. There was no dark corridor. There was no dark shadow chasing him. All that was there was the hotel hallway connected to so many suites, the bright light overhead, and Wambus’ arms wrapped around him to stop his sprinting.

“Wambus?”

Gramble heard a sigh of relief behind, and they both relaxed.

“Gramble, boy. You gave me a fright there. Are you okay?”

He had been sleepwalking. Of course, he had been. Of all the times he had forgotten to tie himself to the bed too. He was too into his exploration he assumed.

“Wambus,” he repeated. “Don’t… don’t you know you’re not supposed to grab someone who’s sleepwalking like that?”

“I panicked,” Wambus nagged. “I didn’t know what to do. I woke up and you were on the floor, flailing all over the place. I tried to wake you, but you pushed me away. I thought you were angry or something. I didn’t know you were having a night terror. You were writhing, pointing out at the balcony, and then you just dashed out of the room. I didn’t even know that someone could move that fast when asleep.”

Gramble didn’t either. Was the nightmare really that bad? His memories of them had already began to slip into nothing but hazy images and voices.

Voices.

~~You were never any good.~~

“Let go of me! Let go!”

Wambus immediately let go and watched as Gramble began to back away from him, the previous fear making itself available once more.

“I… I don’t…”

He began to spout disjointed words, hurrying toward his suite, before stopping short and looking back at Wambus. No, no. Triffany and Wiggle were there. They were having fun. They deserved to have fun. He wasn’t allowed. He hadn’t earned it. He hadn’t even earned those moments with Wambus, or any moment with Wiggle. He stole them. He stole things he hadn’t worked toward.

“Gramble, calm down.”

Wambus’ voice was lost. Gramble didn’t deserve the right to hear it. He didn’t deserve to hear Wiggle’s songs. What was there to even try and argue about? It wasn’t enough, and it was never going to be enough.

Not good enough to be a good boyfriend.

Not good enough to be a good animal handler.

Not good enough to make clothes people want.

Not good enough to deserve anything.

Not even good enough to be in a family.

~~You were never any good.~~

~~were never any good~~

~~never any good~~

~~and good~~

~~good~~

“I was never any good.”

**W O R T H L E S S**

**A**

**S**

**T**

**E**

_We don’t think_

_you should come_

_around here anymore._

_sInCeReLy,_

“You’re plenty good to me.”

Like ice water to the face.

Gramble’s consciousness came back to Wambus kneeling in front of him. How did they get back to the suite? Wait, what did Wambus say? Gramble wasn’t sure what it was he just heard. Did Wambus say that? No, it must have been in his head.

“W…wha?”

“And not just me,” Wambus continued. “You’re good to Wiggle and Triffany too. Filbo and Buddy like you too. Heck, I reckon all the rest of our little family got some nice things to say about you.”

Family?

“Maybe you can ask them when we all meet up at the end of the year. How does that sound?”

Would they want to see him?

“So, don’t say you ain’t been any good. I know you and me had our differences, but I know better now, and I know from personal experience that you got a lot of good in you. I’m little jealous of that.”

Why was he being so nice?

“I don’t know what in that dream got you riled up, but I know better than to force it out of you. But listen Gramble: whenever you’re ready to talk about things, you know you got grumps here that’re willing to listen to you.”

Listen?

Gramble shivered. In a shaky voice he asked, “like you?”

A smile widened on Wambus’ face.

“Well, why not?” he bellowed. “It’s been nice hanging around you lately. Never a dull moment, and… it’s nice to listen to you. You and…” he was about to bring up Triffany, but immediately stopped himself and pivoted to another sentence. “I can tell you have a lot of good in you, and really want to let it out. When you feel like it, I’m ready to listen.”

Wambus knew he sounded sappy. He never put his words eloquently like Triffany. He made them sound melodramatic and over the top, more than likely because of the movies he watched growing up. He hoped it was enough.

Looking at Gramble, it seemed to do the trick.

The pink fluff lunged at him as a waterfall of tears erupted from his eyes. He grabbed ahold of blue fur and refused to let go. All he wanted to do was sob a little bit.

There was too much of everything in him and he didn’t know where or how to vent it. All he wanted to do was scream at everything, including himself, but it came out as his face pressed against wet fur on Wambus.

He needed something to escape. Anything. Something to vent. Some sort of outlet.

The act sent a warmth through him, followed by the familiar electricity of exploring. His arms did their best to wrap around Wambus’ neck as their mouths met. Gramble leaned into it, entering, exploring and playing, wanting the colors blue and orange to envelope him. He broke away, leaving a trail of saliva from his kiss – one that shocked Wambus by the intensity of it.

Gramble’s breathing was beginning to slow down. His body suddenly felt heavy. Parts of him were still tense, but the parts that surrendered let a gasp of minor relief and the briefest shudder of euphoria.

He smiled, tired.

As if in a daze, Gramble curled himself up into Wambus’ chest.

Wambus picked him up, and the two found refuge on the couch, while Gramble remained happily in embrace.

He nuzzled into blue fur.

“You feel s…”

He stopped himself. His words only came out as a barely audible mutter that Wambus didn’t understand.

There was this tranquilizing feeling of **safety** in Wambus’ fur.

They stayed in that embrace until the first light of the sun came over the horizon.

* * *


	8. I Hear the Sound of Mandolins

* * *

** Day Five – Part Two **

5:59am

Maybe it was coincidence. Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was just good ole fashioned timing. But the two couples met up in the hallway at the exact same time, locking up the door to their respected suites, before noticing the others.

The four of them chuckled uncomfortably, before approaching each other.

None of them looked well.

“Busy night?” Triffany asked, not wanting to ask about details… yet.

Gramble yawned and rubbed the side of his head, “You could say that. What about you two?”

“The same, darling,” Wiggle answered.

They could feel that something happened outside what the others were expecting. There was a muddling cloud over them that suggested both joy and grief.

They could have stood there and let it all out. They could have gone into one of the suites and chatted about their respected nights. But they had agreed to wait until after the set. There was too much to do.

“Coffee?” Wambus asked the group.

The other three pointed to the elevator.

Usually, breakfast was made up of one of them going downstairs and collecting a few plates of food from the complimentary breakfast offered near the lobby. Filbo usually volunteered. However, they decided to go and have breakfast in the little public nook where it all was.

They had thought to ask Filbo, Buddy, and Floofty if they wanted to come, but remembered they had gone to the set that night and let them sleep. At least Filbo and Buddy, anyway. Who knew where Floofty even was at this hour?

The four arrived at the little room with the tables set up just as it was opening up. A few festival organizers entered with them and made a beeline for the coffee. Wiggle volunteered to brave the machine and grab three mugs for joe, plus a fourth for tea. Wambus got to work managing the self-serve waffle maker, and Triffany grabbed any fresh fruit that got put out. Gramble worked on getting some condiments: butter, jelly, sugar, and cream. He hoped for honey, but no dice.

They found a small square table to share, pulling up two extra chairs to accommodate everyone. With the platter laid out, they began a grand breakfast, where something strange occurred. It wasn’t noticed by anyone at the table and treated as if it were something they had already become accustomed to.

The seats had been switched.

Wiggle and Triffany sat at one side of the table, while Wambus and Gramble sat at another. They discussed varying topics: from the festival, to their likes and dislikes, creating idle chitchat like nothing was wrong. They nudged at one another, played silly games, and laughed to their new partners. And though they knew it seemed out of place to the usual routine, they ignored it, acting as different couples than before they came to the festival.

The stories had changed.

The farmer, just getting by through sauces and gumption, found himself a pink furred treasure that had been left behind, mistaken as trash from undeserving people who couldn’t see his potential in creativity and kindness. The popstar had stumbled upon this background dancer one day, striking up a conversation that was the first of many down their lives as they refused to leave the other on the road, even fighting through the tumultuous cycle of a one-hit wonder.

These were the stories their minds had come up with, whether they knew it or not. Heads leaned against another’s side, paws touched and played, sprinkled with little one-on-on conversations that no one else but their new partner could hear.

It didn’t feel strange.

This was how their day was.

The girls knew the set was coming, and they needed to practice and get ready. They would spend the day in the storage room, arguing with the dancers and each other as they did their best to finalize the choreography, hours before going live.

The boys would plan to spend the day away from the hotel and stadium, agreeing that the fresh air would do them both some good. Grabbing a brochure of city events and locations, they caught a bus heading in a random direction and looked for their first stop.

The girls would mix different kinds of dancing, incorporating salsa and flamenco during “Do the Wiggle” as the dancers behind them performed the already known moves of the hit. Snide mutterings could be heard during breaks about how Wiggle and this girl seemed a little too close. Was “girl-toy” even real slang? Triffany talked down to them like children, scolding them for gossiping about Wiggle.

The boys found a city market in the middle of an open park. Farmers, cooks, and craft workers from within and outside the city gathered to sell their goods and bring in a profit – a scene Wambus was all too familiar with. As he and Gramble explored, he stopped, going into detail about the different sauces and how they’re grown and the best method for cultivating them. Gramble loved listening to it.

The girls took a lunch break, excusing the dancers for the hour. Triffany had a stagehand get them some salads as not to have anything too heavy during practice. With their bellies full of greens and protein, they waited for the dancers to return. Triffany curled up against Wiggle as the two of them dropped into a little nap. The dancers came back with the band and tech crew.

The boys ate at the market, both of them getting a lot of new treats to try out, as well as some small dishes that they knew the other wouldn’t want to share. They compared and gave their reviews, with the conversation going to cooking. Wambus considered himself a decent chef, while Gramble joked about being so bad that water would catch fire. Wambus hoped it was a joke. Before they left, Gramble stood up in his chair and boldly gave Wambus a kiss on the cheek, before skuttling away, red as a beet. Wambus had to chase after.

The girls designated duties between the three factions. Wiggle handled the band, making sure they had the appropriate music for the first two songs. She was happy to hear that the organizers had already passed along her choices to them, so they were ready. She also explained that she intended to play the third song solo. Looking over at Triffany, she smiled seeing the woman’s eyes light up as she discussed lighting for the dance scene. When things were set, they took ten minutes to go outside and enjoy some sunlight.

The boys opted out of the bus for their next destination, choosing to walk instead through an art district. There was a comfortable silence between them as they looked through windows, pointing out things that interested them. When Gramble’s feet started to get tired, they took a break, and watched the grumps of the city dash back and forth.

The wind felt nice that day.

* * *

5:25pm

As the sun began to make its way toward the ending horizon, the boys made one last stop. Gramble had noticed a large goodwill store and basically forced Wambus inside with him.

“I love these places!” Gramble exclaimed as he rummaged through a bin just inside the entrance of the store. “You can always find something useful if you look hard enough.”

It all looked like junk to Wambus, but he let Gramble have his fun, following him around as he explored the store, while the muffled speakers overhead sung out quiet jazz and soothing song. Though kitchen equipment and some electronics were interesting, they – and little else – were enough for Wambus to garner a second glance. However, just as he was about to find a place to sit down and wait for Gramble, something caught his eye.

Gramble happily made his way to clothing, looking at all the different pieces that jumped out at him. The store back near his old studio never had this large of a selection, and he hadn’t explored far enough from Wiggle’s house to even know if there even was a goodwill store.

Then he stumbled onto them.

“Wambus!” he beamed as he trotted back to the miscellaneous equipment, carrying at least seven hats. “Wambus! Tell me what you think of these! Oh, and I found one I think you’d like too!”

But Wambus wasn’t where Gramble had last seen him. He doubted Wambus had left the store. Perhaps he had wandered off somewhere else? Sure enough, he found Wambus at the furniture section, relaxing on one of the clearance couches, playing with something.

“What do you got there?” Gramble asked. He was surprised to find Wambus strumming along on an old guitar. His face shined. “I didn’t know you played.”

Wambus smirked as his paws played along with the poorly tuned strings.

“Sometimes I do,” he replied, making something of an attempt to create a melody. “Not very good at improvising though. You know how some parents send their kids to learn piano?”

Gramble just up next to him and nodded.

“Well, the piano didn’t quite stick. But I learned how to read music, and every now and then I’d play around on my pa’s guitar. Wasn’t anything like this one though.”

Gramble watched Wambus’ paws glide up and down the neck. Though the guitar was in severe need of repair, he could partially recognize the melody.

“So, you can’t technically play,” Gramble joked, immediately regretting his choice of words.

“Hey now!” Wambus snorted with the smirk still on his face. “I can play. I can even do it without the sheet if I memorize the notes, but, errr… I’m not very good at it. But I know how to play, puff ball.”

Gramble heaved a sigh of relief and nudged Wambus with his shoulder, mimicking the farmer’s smile.

“I was just joking,” he replied. “You’re doing really good right now. I like it.”

As Wambus played, Gramble stood up on the couch and took his straw hat, before replacing it with a stockman hat. He was right. It suited him perfectly.

Wambus stopped playing and eyed a mirror a few feet from the couch.

“You know I’m not a cowboy, right?”

“I know,” Gramble answered as he appeared in the reflection with Wambus. He was sporting a newsboy cap. “But I think it looks real nice on you.”

“You think?” Wambus continued to look at himself in the mirror, sitting with a guitar on his lap, adding to the illusion. “I guess I have no choice then, huh?”

Gramble mentally celebrated and then brought up two more hats: a flat cap and a sunhat.

“Do you think the girls might like these?”

* * *

5:41pm

Neither of the girls said anything as they basked in the sunlight. The hotel had a lovely courtyard in the middle of the building, giving it some much needed natural greenery. The girls would have preferred to relax at the park, but it was too far away from the hotel, and they still had a lot happening.

Wiggle sat against a tree, looking out at the different grumps who were rushing about, using the courtyard as a shortcut to get from one end of the hotel to the other. A few actual patrons hung around and relaxed like the girls, but Wiggle was surprised how few (she assumed) hotel guests were enjoying the sun. She had never stopped to ask how many guests were actually checked in, but as she recounted the past few days, it certainly felt like the festival staff outnumbered hotel guests. Plenty of nightly visitors for the show though.

Triffany had laid down, resting her head on Wiggle’s legs, with her hat fallen to the side. Wiggle’s spade shaped sunglasses adorned her eyes, looking up at the blue sky (tinted pink behind the lenses), and watching grey clouds zoom by overhead.

“I wonder if it’s supposed to rain?” Triffany asked the sky.

“Who knows,” Wiggle sighed.

Ten minutes had turned into twenty as neither wanted to go back. They knew if they did, they wouldn’t stop going until the set was good and done.

“You know,” Triffany continued, “when I was a little grump, my grandma and I would drive out to the country and just sit on the grass and look at the clouds. You never got a REAL look at them unless you were out there.”

“I can imagine,” Wiggle replied as she began to scratch Triffany’s head. All the noise, and hustle and bustle made absorbing nature difficult for her line of work. “Darling, sometimes I think I should get away from all of this.”

“What do you mean?”

Wiggle shrugged.

“Away from the diva life. You never get a chance to take a break. You’re always on the go from one place to another, always singing the same song, and then when you’re not on stage, everyone expects you to make something just as new and exciting as the last thing you made, and if not…”

“Then you’re labeled a one-hit wonder,” Triffany said.

“Has-been before you even had-been,” Wiggle groaned. “And here I am, still doing it a decade later. You would think I would have learned my lesson by now.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“Stopping what, Triff?”

“What’s stopping you from retiring?” Triffany asked as she looked up at Wiggle. “Why not release this last song and stop? You could get away from it. I could always use an assistant. Then you could see the clouds the way my grandma showed me.”

How many times had Wiggle “retired”? How many times had she come back?

“I wish I could,” she answered. “But I love it too much, headache and all. I love making music. I love seeing the smiles I put on everyone’s faces. It’s hard for me to say no. I can’t give that up. I feel… like I’d be letting myself down.”

She then watched as Triffany brought her paw up and place it on Wiggle’s cheek.

“I like the idea though,” Wiggle went on. “Becoming your assistant might be fun. I wouldn’t mind exploring the world a little bit with you.”

Triffany smiled.

“I like that idea too.”

* * *

7:00pm

The boys returned to their respected suites to shower and get ready for “doors open”. Gramble noticed a letter from Wiggle advising him on where they needed to meet. Apparently, they weren’t going to just anyplace to watch.

When they were cleaned up, they went to check to see if Filbo and Buddy were ready. They weren’t there.

“Do you think they know where to meet us?” Gramble asked, as if Wambus would know.

* * *

7:30pm

Doors opened.

Wiggle and Triffany had forgotten one very important thing with getting everything ready.

A wardrobe. The dancers were already set up, but the girls had completely forgotten that they needed something glamorous to wear on stage.

Luckily, the backstage area had a plethora of costumes up for grabs for any performer. Triffany found exactly what she wanted and excused herself to change. Wiggle, on the other hand, was overwhelmed with options. Usually, she’d just wear her touring outfit and call it a day. But this felt like a special occasion.

For a woman who was a popular diva in her day, she was certainly indecisive when it came to diva fashion.

“You look like you could use some help.”

Wiggle turned around, and there he was – her savior in her time of need.

“What do you think, darling?” she asked Gramble as she brought up two different options.

He looked at them and shook his head.

“Neither,” he answered before diving into the rack of outfits.

* * *

7:47pm

Wambus waited outside the dressing rooms, specifically reserved for artists. Not even a backstage pass could get him in. Gramble only got to follow along because of Wiggle, and Triffany was nowhere to be seen. Wiggle just told him to “wait right there”.

And then…

“How do I look?”

He turned toward the dressing room opposite the one Wiggle and Gramble had entered.

Triffany walked out, dressed from head to toe in the most dapper outfit Wambus had ever seen on his wife. He started at her feet, observing the white and black ballroom socks they started at her heel and stretched up a few inches, before moving upwards to light brown camel pants. Connected to the pants were suspenders, draped over a long sleeved, surprisingly fitted, white, button-up shirt.

“Is the tie too much?”

She sported a bowtie the same color as the pants, which inevitably lead to her face. The same old Triffany, in the same old hat.

“Nah,” he said as he approached her, “but I think this might suit your outfit better.” He reached into a plastic bag he had with him, took off her explorer’s hat, and placed the flat cap on her. He took a step back and looked at her.

The most handsome and beautiful grumpus he had ever laid his eyes on.

“Why the getup?” he asked.

“Oh, thaaaat,” she trailed. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

She grabbed his paw and lead him along backstage, flashing a new badge that Wambus hadn’t seen before, giving them access to a grassy area in the stadium proper, where organizers were sprinting everywhere.

Wambus could hear the crowd outside. Looking near a set of makeshift doors to the far end of the area, he noticed security enter. Just on the other side were the screaming fans.

They were in the staging area, right behind where the artists would go on.

* * *

8:05pm

Wiggle sat still on the floor, letting Gramble work his magic on her, occasionally looking over at the clock when she needed to. Her set wasn’t until 9:00pm, so time was beginning to be of the essence. She wondered if she could get one more bit of practice in with the dancers before then. She wasn’t worried about the band or the lighting, but the dancers though…

“Stop fidgeting,” Gramble chastised as he rubbed some blush into her fur. “Everything will be fine. You always do well on stage.”

She wanted to smile and thank him, but he was busting out the lipstick.

“Pucker,” he instructed. She did. “We’re done.”

She stood up and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked as good as she always did right before a performance – at least for when Gramble was on tour with her. He always did good work.

“That’s the one other thing I missed about having you on tour,” she said, finally getting to a smile. “You give Wiggle a run for her money on making me look good.”

“What’s the other thing you missed?” Gramble asked as he cleaned up her makeup supplies.

“You, of course.”

Always the charmer, that Wiggle.

“Let me see,” Gramble said, instructing her to spin around. “You look good.”

“You think?”

He didn’t have to answer. Gramble was always sure of himself when it came to matching outfits. He had no sense of “fashion”, or what the current trends were, but when it came to putting together an ensemble with what little there was, he was an ace at it.

Wiggle took one last look at herself in the mirror.

The black pumps took a bit of getting used to, often opting for flat soles on the rare occasion she needed to wear shoes, but they mixed well with the sequined bellbottoms that Gramble had picked out, matching perfectly with the sequined jacket it was hanging with. After buttoning up, she was told to leave the top two undone to show off a little fur. Of course, she had to have her trademark pink boa, as well as her sunglasses of the day.

“You’re a diva, remember?” Gramble reminded her. “You ain’t one if you don’t stand out among everyone else.”

“Having this voooooooice helps too,” she replied, singing.

“Save it for the stage,” Gramble laughed as he passed her a bottled water with a straw in it as not to ruin her lipstick.

* * *

8:12pm

“Seeing is believing,” Wambus said as he watched Wiggle approach he and Triffany. “You got yourself a knack for this sort of thing, don’t you Gramble?”

“Oh, darling,” Wiggle laughed, “you have no idea how many times this man of mine has saved me out on the road. You should let him pick out your wardrobe one of these days. It’d be more interesting than those tatters you wear.”

Wambus looked down at himself.

“What’s wrong with what I wear?”

Gramble nervously chuckled.

“It’s fine for a farmer,” he started, “but… you’re not farming right now, are ya?”

Wambus was about to complain about it being comfortable, but when Triffany and Wiggle agreed with Gramble, he crossed his arm and growled.

“I like what I wear,” he mumbled.

Triffany leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I love you no matter what you wear. Especially when it’s nothing at all.”

Wambus felt warmth take over his face.

“His fur is nice, isn’t it,” Gramble then suddenly interjected. This had everyone look down at him, surprised. Did Gramble really just say that?

Wiggle laughed loudly.

Triffany agreed. “Doesn’t he though?”

Wambus blushed and pulled the rim of his new hat down over his eyes, but still smiled, nonetheless.

* * *

8:45pm

“We’re about to go out, darling,” Wiggle whispered to Triffany. “You nervous?”

“Like a digger who just broke a third century Grumpahoa dynasty femur,” Triffany replied, knowing that Wiggle probably wouldn’t understand the distraught feeling of having accidentally destroyed history with a pickaxe.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Wiggle said. She looked back at Wambus and Gramble, who were chatting with the dancers. “You haven’t told Wambus you’re going out on stage, have you?”

Triffany shook her head. “Why ruin the surprise?”

* * *

9:01pm

A minute late, the announcer called them out.

“It’s time, Triff.”

Triffany rushed over to Wambus and gave him a kiss.

“Wish me luck!”

“On what?”

She waved to Gramble as she followed Wiggle out on stage. Wambus nearly jumped out of his fur. He was about to chase after her before Gramble grabbed his paw. The blue brute looked down at him.

“Did you know?” he asked with shock.

Gramble shook his head.

“No clue. Think she’ll do well?”

Do well with what? Wambus looked out onto the stage from the sidelines as Wiggle waved and announced herself to the roaring crowd. Triffany took her place next to her, acting as the “main” dancer, while the others stood in the background.

“Do the Wiggle” came up first, showing off the kind of dancing that Wambus had never seen his wife do before: The movements, the fluidity, the sheer excitement of it. Unlike the other dancers, Triffany danced almost exclusively with Wiggle, going back and forth from solo disco dancing, to twirls and dips with Wiggle. Did Triffany just flamenco dance?

The connection was palpable. Wambus and Gramble could see it clear as day. It couldn’t be denied. The boys would have been lying if they didn’t admit there was a little jealousy, as neither had ever seen the other dance like that before. But there was something genuine there between the girls. It felt raw and unbridled. Just the way they moved spoke of something else.

The movements spread across the stadium, eliciting excitement and joy from the crowd. Both Wambus and Gramble watched their partners, dancing along to the end of the song. They weren’t sure what this odd feeling in their chests were (Pride? Support? Worry?), but in the strangest way, it felt blissful.

Through it, neither Wambus nor Gramble had let go of each other’s paws. Quite the contrary, they had tightened their grip more than when they started.

“What a pair,” Wambus said, following with a huff of laughter.

“No kidding,” Gramble agreed. He really didn’t understand what was going on anymore, but it didn’t make him feel so conflicted at least.

Looking out at Triffany, he was happy that the hat he chose for her matched so well.

* * *

9:20pm

30 minutes were all each set was allotted – Middlemuck being the only exception to the rule, since he had his own full concert on day seven.

Wiggle wished she had more time. The way that the crowd cheered and begged for more felt so much different than the nightclubs and venues she had been touring in. She couldn’t remember the last time she was in front of so many people.

In the last ten minutes, she introduced her dancers (including Triffany), as well as the band, before dismissing them. A tired and wobbly Triffany nearly fell into her husband’s arms, while Gramble helped by getting her a chair and some water.

“Amateur,” one of the dancers muttered as they walked away.

“Violence,” Wambus growled as he was about to jump the grump who muttered the disrespect. Once again, Triffany and Gramble had to stop him from doing something stupid.

“What did I tell you about that attitude?” Triffany scalded him.

“I know,” he sighed. “Sorry, Triffy.” He gave her a kiss and sat down on the floor next to her. Gramble stood closer to the stage, watching Wiggle collect a stool from the stage, before adjusting the microphone while carrying her banjo.

“I know this is an electronic music festival and everything,” Wiggle said as she sat down, “but I wanted to do something different for this last song.” She adjusted herself, getting her banjo ready. “Miss Triffany helped me with this new song the past week, and I feel like it’s ready for you all to hear. I don’t have any backing music or anything for it, so let’s consider it a slow song for tonight, so grab your partner and get ready to sway.” She winked at the audience, though only the front row could see it.

She took in a deep breath and started strumming on the strings of her banjo, trying to get the sound just right.

“I’ve had a lot on my mind,” she continued, addressing the audience. “I came home after experiencing something very traumatic. I’ve been having to think a lot about myself, my relationships, my music. I’m sure you’ve already read all the articles and everything.”

She sighed, doing her best not to bring up Snaktooth.

“But through it all, I found some amazing things. I met someone special. I made a new song that gave me a new lease on life. I found myself a family.”

She looked over to her side and waved to Wambus, Triffany, and Gramble.

“This is a song about all of those things, and I hope that everyone here can hear everything that I’ve have gone through.”

She started singing. The audience went to a murmur as they listened to the new, unreleased cut of Wiggle Wigglebottom’s new song.

Wambus and Triffany listened, curling close to one another as they followed along to the lyrics and sound.

“Now this? I get this,” Wambus said as he nodded along to the melody. “I get what you mean now, Triffy.”

She was glad. She agreed wholeheartedly, all the while, that fluttering in her stomach came back harder than before.

Gramble listened. His eyes widened and mouth slightly went agape. This was the song he was hoping she’d write. “Ode to Gramble” was a step in the right direction with it being from the heart, but it was still about him, in the end. This was different. This was 100% Wiggle Wigglebottom. This was the song she wanted to sing, all from the heart.

He was happy. This was what he always wanted for her.

He had to rub away the tears welling up in his eyes.

Just for a moment, the world was just Wiggle and her voice, and that was all she wanted. It was all Gramble wanted for her.

The song was called, “For This.”

When the song was over, she thanked the cheering audience, waving to them as she walked off the stage. She was greeted by her loving pink partner – a mess of tears and smiles.

* * *

9:39pm

When all was said and done, the four of them evacuated away from the stadium, returning to the backstage hallways, to an area where the press wasn’t allowed to be. A few of the staff congratulated Wiggle on the new song before returning to their own jobs.

She felt good. The sense of accomplishment when she had gotten a positive reaction from “Ode to Gramble” came back to her, and for the first time in a while, felt like a true popstar. Three hits! Maybe two and a half? She could only dream of such an accomplishment. Three hits, without a dedicated song writer, manager, or executive hovering over her shoulder.

“You did amazing, Wiggle,” Gramble said as he sat on a rolling crate. It allowed him to be close to eye level with the rest of them.

Wambus agreed adding, “I think you got yourself a bonafide hit on your hand.”

Triffany nodded, about to offer her praise as well, until some colors went zooming on by past her. She recognized two of the three that zipped by. Everyone else joined in watching the blurs rush by, nearly knocking down a poor stagehand in the process.

“Was that Filbo and Buddy?” Triffany asked, watching as they disappeared around the bend, chasing after a red blur.

“That… it… was…”

They turned the other way to find Floofty, leaning against the crate Gramble was sitting on, clutching their thigh and out of breath.

“Floofty!” Triffany exclaimed. “We’ve been wondering where you all had been. Who’s that the boys are chasing?”

They huffed and puffed, their legs all sorts of shaky. They mentally noted that they needed to increase the amount of exercise they did in a week from once to twice, at the very least.

“A student of mine…” they explained. “Something’s not right. Something… something is deeply concerning.”

“Sure is!” announced another approaching figure. “Wiggle Wigglebottom has a new hit on her hand, and you’re not congratulating her. Shame on you, purple.”

The group groaned as Middlemuck caught up with them, patting Floofty on the shoulder before standing in front of Wiggle.

“I was up in the booth, listening along,” he said. “I love the new song. You must tell me where the real inspiration came from.”

“Real inspiration?” Wiggle pondered to him.

He nodded.

“Of course! You were being really vague there, and it piqued my interest. Let’s have a chat tomorrow after the press circuits! We can talk about it then!”

Wiggle didn’t even need to think about accepting such a pointless offer.

“Sorry, Middlemuck, but I have plans with my family.” She then turned away from him and motioned everyone to put some distance between themselves and the DJ. At a brisk pace, they disappeared out of sight from him.

Middlemuck shook his head, and then looked back over at Floofty, who was glaring at him.

“It’s rude to stare,” he said to Floofty. “Don’t be rude. Being rude gets you into all sorts of trouble. You and your friends are rude. It’s rude to leave a party before announcing yourself. Stop being rude.” He said it with a smile on his face, before walking back the direction from whence he came.

Floofty growled.

Middlemuck took notice.

“I had a lovely time hanging out with you and your friends! You and I should hang out again real soon!” He waved to the purple professor, before he slinged his tote bag over his shoulder and jovially skipped away.

* * *

9:58pm

An early night. They all needed it. They headed back to their rooms and got ready to retire.

“You were amazing,” Wambus said to Triffany as he locked the door behind them. He turned to meet her, and found her posing against the kitchen table, showing off her suit. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” she asked him, playfully.

Wambus smiled and tossed the key to the suite on the kitchen counter.

“It looks to me like someone wants to be noticed?” he joked with her.

“I don’t need to try,” she countered. “I get noticed when I walk into the room.”

Wambus took her as if they were about to break out into a dance.

“Now you’re starting to sound like a diva,” he said with a grin. “I hope I don’t end up in the papers as dancer Triffany Lottablog’s secret lover. What would Wiggle think?”

“Shut up, hot stuff,” she replied happily. “You talk too much.”

And off the couple went to the bedroom for a dance of their own.

* * *

10:10pm

Wiggle passed out the moment her head hit the pillow.

Gramble wasn’t surprised. She always pushed herself so hard during her performances. He looked at her as he pulled himself into bed, with her splayed out, still in her performance outfit.

“You were amazing,” he said to her, kissing her on forehead.

As if by instinct, she unconsciously grabbed him into a cuddle, turning on her side to make sure the two of them were positioned happily. He sighed in content as he fell into her **comfortable** embrace. The sequins didn’t feel so nice, but they didn’t stop him from falling asleep in her arms.

With everything that had happened, he expected himself to be somewhere in the other room the next morning. But in the end, he ended up motionless and happy the whole night.

No nightmares and no sleep walking.

* * *


End file.
